


Cheers!

by Kosho, SBlackmane



Series: Two Grumpy Elves and Other Tales [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Attempt at Humor, Backstory, Eventual Smut, Headcanon, Hedge magic, Like really minor, M/M, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, POV Alternating, POV First Person, Sarcasm, Shapeshifting, Some Plot, When You Accidentally Join An Army
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-27
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-20 21:54:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 38,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19385368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kosho/pseuds/Kosho, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SBlackmane/pseuds/SBlackmane
Summary: Two elves accidentally join the Inquisition, meet randomly at the Singing Maiden, and bond over mutual dislike of bald things, and unrequited crushes on the Commander.And maybe they help save the world on occasion.---RP between me and Kosho, featuring our OCs, Elias and Siva.





	1. Chapter 1

**POV Elias**

It’s been days since the Breach opened in the sky, and in my spare moments, often I reflect on what first led me here to this valley.

I’m an elf, you see, and my being here was entirely by chance. My story is simple. I was raised in a one room shack, as my father worked the fields for a human family in southern Ferelden, but when my magic manifested, I left home to wander of my own accord. I didn’t want to be dragged away to one of the Chantry’s Circles, so I chose a life of solitude instead. As such, I’m an apostate, and a self-taught hedge mage. And as aforementioned, my being at Haven is completely by accident.

I’d taken to passing myself off as a hunter–no one need know my fur pelts were obtained by magic rather than bow and arrow–and often I would trade with the Avvar I would come across in my travels. They’re not so begrudging of magic like most. So there I had been, making my way through the Frostbacks, when the sky opened above. I heard and saw the blast, but luckily I was far enough away that I was largely unaffected by it. Only a tingle of foreign magic raced up my spine.

But others weren’t so lucky. I don’t know what drew me to the Breach–maybe it was the unbridled power of the raw Fade overwhelming my senses–but something urged me to move, and when I came closer I saw droves of humans fleeing the valley, the whole of it having been destroyed. There was nothing left of the Chantry temple at the top of the mountain–there wasn’t even a _mountain_ –and only a small village, a stop on the way up, remained where people gathered the injured.

I couldn’t walk away from what I witnessed, so I ducked my head and joined the soldiers, passing undetected into the village. No one noticed me, probably confused me for another of their elven pages, and since I was standing there, gawking, I ended up helping a woman who called me over to hold someone’s leg while she set the broken bone and wrapped his leg in a splint. And there I was, helping to assist the wounded, and just like that, I was part of it all. For days it went on.

Demon after demon poured from the hole in the Fade, and wounded after wounded passed through my care. It wasn’t until I had to use magic to heal someone that anyone even noticed me, let alone that I didn’t belong, screaming “Apostate!” Loudly, when she witnessed me stitch up a cut with a little hand wave, and I almost ran, but luckily a woman was there who had little care who was what, much less that I was a mage. She frightened me at first, as she was rather tall and menacing.

She was wearing some sort of breastplate embossed with a flaming sword and an eye, white in color, with short hair and a mean scar on her cheek. I didn’t catch her name, but I caught her murmur of thanks after she scolded the woman who persecuted me, and felt her pat my shoulder. Oh yes, yes when people are _dying_ suddenly nobody cares if someone has magic or not. As long as it’s _useful_. I would learn later I wasn’t the only apostate not with the Circle mages that offered their services.

But for the moment, I was given amnesty, so I continued to do what I could. These people were strangers–ungrateful ones at that; well, some of them, anyway–and yet I couldn’t bring myself to pick up and leave when I could be of some help to people. I don’t know why, but it’s just in my nature, I suppose. So a day or two passed until soldiers found a survivor at the temple and brought them down to the village, putting them in the dungeon below the smaller Chantry.

They assumed this person to be the culprit, thought some suspected they may actually be the only one who might save us all from this nightmare. Hours passed before they woke, hours more before they safely made it to the Breach to try to close it with some strange magic on their hand. Wild rumors spread throughout the encampment of them being saved by Andraste, brought back from the dead, falling right out of the Fade rift and into their laps like mana from the Golden City.

Well, they didn’t close the Breach, but it grew stable, and the days after that were spent cleaning up the valley, and doing what we could for those still alive, rebuilding some bit of the village to make it habitable. Throughout all that, I sort of ended up being their chief healer, in a sense. I was the only one with enough talent left alive by the end of it–the woman I initially helped later died trying to pull some injured pilgrim out from under a fallen hut, and was then herself crushed by it.

I suppose I could’ve gone anywhere when it was all over, but someone, I don’t quite remember who, roused me from my half-sleep, slumped over in a corner of one of the huts after exhausting my magic for days on end, and plopped a purse full of gold in my hand, paying me for my services. I guess they meant to dismiss me and send me on my way, but I still haven’t left yet. I was tired, and the first thing I thought of when I got that gold was a hot meal, a strong drink, and a good fuck.

Well, I couldn’t do much in the way of the third, but the first two were provided by the tavern, which was miraculously still running, so there I went, to that building with a sign that said The Singing Maiden. I plopped myself down in an empty chair, at first thinking I would be shooed away, that someone might say, “We don’t serve knife-ears here!” But instead a friendly young woman came to my seat and said, “Hello there, sir. Name’s Flissa. What can I get ya?”

I plopped a few coins down on the table and sighed, “Whatever I can get.” She snorted at that. “Something hot, and edible, preferably. With a little something to wash it down maybe.”

“Comin’ right up,” she nodded and went to fetch what I’d ordered. I was rewarded with a hot, steaming bowl of boiled nug meat and a pint of ale for my troubles. Can’t say I was too disappointed. I ate, I drank, then I found some unoccupied corner of the vicinity to curl up and pass out. The next morning someone–one of the soldiers–nudged my foot to wake me, saying, “There you are. Been lookin’ all over for ya. Have yourself a bit of breakfast then report to the command tent.”

Can’t say I was too happy to be disturbed. I’d only gotten snippets of sleep since all this started. Nevertheless I cracked open my eyes and grunted, squinting at the sunlight.

“Where the fuck is the command tent?” I grumbled as I gazed groggily up at the man, who took my confusion in stride.

“Down past the gate,” he said, then left me to it.

Yeah, so apparently I was one of them now. I don’t know how I did it exactly, but at some point I became an Inquisition agent, as I would soon learn it was called. No longer was I just another random body, nor only an outsider who happened upon the incident, but one of them somehow, and so I did as I was told. What better things did I have to do that day? So I went to back to the tavern, was told breakfast was served down in the mess tent, got directions to the mess tent, ate, then reported in.

Some big burly human with reddish blonde hair, silverite armor over which was draped a mantle of fur about the shoulders, was waiting in the command tent and glanced up from a stack of reports. He was quite a fine looking human, I might add, with strong, chiseled features and gleaming amber eyes that caught me off guard for a moment, especially with the way he eyed me briefly as if curious of me. “You’re the healer, I presume? I’ve been expecting you.”

His eyes dropped to my clothing, and I had to have looked awful. Barefoot, covered in mud, blood, and who the fuck knew what else, the fur I was wrapped in all damp and matted, my black hair clinging to my scalp, soaked with grime and mussed from sleep. Green eyes half lidded from exhaustion. He could see I wasn’t one of those Dalish–don’t have any of their markings–but could also see for himself I was no subservient Alienage elf. Just a wanderer. “I’m the healer, yes,” I yawned.

“You should be properly outfitted lest you be confused for one of the pilgrims or the other workers we have here,” the soldier–Commander, I think?–commented. “My lieutenant should’ve mentioned all this and directed you to the supply tent when you were recruited.” Yeah, well, this lieutenant didn’t tell me shit because technically I wasn’t recruited, just sort of thrown into the mix, but…”Are you a mage?” the man then asked me, and I blinked a few times.

“Depends.”

“Depends?”

“Yeah, on whether or not you’re going to stab me for the fact.”

He snorted. “Whether Mage or Templar, we’re all part of the Inquisition now,” he told me. “Were we still fighting, I might have more choice words, but having magic will be most useful to us. So many of the rebel mages died on that mountain in the explosion, and a portion of our own healers were lost in the aftermath. Seeker Cassandra tells me you’re a proficient healer, that you’ve saved many lives. We’re very grateful for your assistance insofar.”

Saved lives? That was a new one on me. I don’t remember _saving_ anyone really. Just healed a few gashes, set some broken bones. Not like I brought anyone back from the dead anyway. Based on all the whispering among those useless Chantry women who’d rather rant, rave, and pray than actually be of some use to anyone, the hero that had saved us all was the Herald of Andraste, actually. And last time I checked, that person wasn’t me. How in the bloody Void did I get bumped up to hero?

But I nodded to all that, soaking it in with what part of my brain could process it, considering how tired I was still.

“The supply tent is just outside and to your left. Should you have need of anything else, speak to the Quartermaster. Adan will keep you in supply of medicinal herbs.”

I just _love_ how everyone says things like I know who or what they’re talking about.

He directed me with the point of a finger on that gloved hand and I shuffled out. In the biting wind I roused a little to slightly more awake, and realized what just happened. I joined an Inquisition. I became a healer for a bunch of former Chantry bats. And I don’t know how the fuck that happened, but it was better than anyone trying to kill me or cart me off to a Circle prison, so I went with it. Ambled over to the supply tent and peaked inside, eyes darting over the crates in view.

So I had my choice of battlemage armor emblazoned with the Inquisition symbol, or Circle mage robes to differentiate me from the rest, and neither looked particularly appealing, so I poked around in the crates for some off-duty clothes. There wasn’t much by the way of anything that hadn’t already been pilfered by the Commander’s regimen, and most of what was left was sized to fit the average human, not the average elf, but I managed to find a single elf sized darkened samite shirt.

The leather breeches would probably fit snugly, and the boots would take some getting used to, but at least I wouldn’t freeze. Outside the tent I found a woman wearing Templar armor that was watching the soldiers train, and while my instinct was to run away, I remembered what that Commander fellow told me, about all of us being Inquisition now, and so I cautiously approached her with a pinch of a smile, saying, “Uh, hello there. Uhm, the name’s Elias.”

“Good morning to you, Elias,” she greeted with an Orlesian accent. “Ser Lysette. What can I do for you, messere?”

“Is there any place around here I could bathe?”

She chuckled. “I see no one mentioned where the bathhouse is located,” she remarked. “There’s a cabin up by the Chantry, just on the right. Next to the Potions Master’s dwelling.”

Where the fuck was the Potion Master’s dwelling?

Oh, wait, yeah, that funny looking fellow in the robe that kept popping in with his stinking concoctions while I was busy exhausting my mana. Yeah, I remember him. That must be Adan.

“Thank you,” I told Lysette.

“A good day to you, messere.”

“Same to you.”

I shuffled away, carting my new belongings to the bathhouse. Yes, I bathe, thank you very much. I’m not a heathen. Just not used to bathing in a building with a wash rag and a bucket of water. But where might I find a stream in these parts that isn’t frozen solid in a block of ice? So there I went, stripped down, scrubbed myself clean and dressed. I presumed my duties would consist of standing around and waiting for someone to need medical attention, so that’s what I did, loitering just outside.

Got caught up in conversation with another elven mage. Handsome enough fellow, save for one thing. He’s bald. So shining bald the sunlight reflects off his head like a helmet. So bald, I half expect his head to crack open like an egg and for a chick to then flop out of it, chirping. I mean, just _look_ at that head! Have you seen it?! I’m not sure how he manages it, but it’s smooth as a baby’s bum, that head. Introduced himself as Solas.

So, we’re discussing spirits and magic when all of the sudden the town is in an uproar. People are shouting and the soldiers are having to hold them back from something. It’s not a riot, but rather people seem overly excited about something, and I guessed the Herald person finally woke up. I left the nook where Solas and I had been standing to get a peak at them. Not what thought they would be. I expected someone taller, at any rate. But I saw a dwarf walking through the crowd.

Looked Carta. It’s those shifty eyes of his. But wearing scout armor, and at a guess he’d snuck into the supply tent and stole that armor to spy on the proceedings the day of the Conclave. He looked just as surprised as anyone else, and just as confused. Headed up toward the Chantry and I followed, peering from behind the droves of people, jumping up and down to peak through their shoulders, to get another glimpse of the little fellow. Not bad looking, for a dwarf.

There was a formal declaration of the Inquisition later that day, then the rest of it passed per usual. Soldiers were packing up to travel to the Hinterlands to try to deal with the situation there. I myself found an empty seat at the tavern that night. Needed a drink. Moreover, needed to get laid. I know it should be the least of my concerns, what with the world supposedly _ending_ and all, but when you’ve lived a solitary life like mine, you get rather lonely, and people look better the more you drink.

So that, case in point, is how I ended up here, in this spot in the corner, cup of ale in my hand, aggravated to all end, and five seconds from shouting, “Hey everyone I’m gay and will somebody please fuck me?!” When a peculiar stranger walks in. Never seen ‘em before until now. But what better time than the present to make friends? I could always use a few more, if I’m being honest about it. Better that than an enemy at least.

Anyway, cheers.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Siva brings his grumpiness with him to the Inquisition.

My name is Siva and I didn’t want to be here. In fact, I tried _not_ to be here in the worst way. I was quietly minding my own business in my little home in the Hinterlands when the awful tear in the sky opened. People from all over fled nearby and suddenly it was far too noisy, the sky too bright and demons everywhere I turned. Some might think that’s fine, but when I say I want to be alone, that includes demons too. With that in mind, I left with my only friend, a raven that I’d hand raised since it fell from its nest. Like me, it seemed its family was gone.

Unfortunately for us, rather than away, we headed _towards_ the chaos. With that thing in the sky, it’s difficult to tell which way you’re going. Seems like it’s coming from everywhere. Matter of fact, the last couple of years haven’t been great. The Blight forced me away, and when I came back? This. Of fucking course.

I slipped past a group of frightened humans, overhearing something called a Conclave that took place in a temple had exploded, and with that in mind, I _thought_ that would be a perfect place to rest for a while. An empty temple was a fine shelter for a little bit. Again, you’ll discover just how unlucky I am. At the time, it absolutely _was_ abandoned. Then more people filed in to sweep the area, taking someone with them. I snuck away, hopefully in the opposite direction. Instead, I ended up right in the middle of a camp. Mostly humans from what I gathered. Before I could turn around and get away, people took notice of me.

“You there!” An older man with a clipboard called to me.

“Me?” I asked, managing to sound dumb on top of directionally challenged. “Uhh…”

“Are you with the mages? Scouts? Soldiers?” He queried.

I meant to insist I wasn’t anything, before a woman saved me from answering. She hadn’t quite looked up, busy writing it appeared. She looked like what I imagine royalty must look.

“With me.” She said distractedly.

“Of course, Lady Montilyet.” He said. “You heard her, go on.”

I was at a loss. I wanted to leave, I wasn’t supposed to be here, just trying to pass through. Instead, I found myself reluctantly following the woman, vaguely wondering if I’ve accidentally been mistaken for a slave of some kind. She sat at a table, still scribbling even while she spoke, sighing with a relief that I wasn’t quite sure I deserved.

“I’m sorry, I’ve just been so busy suddenly, I thought an assistant might come in handy to handle some tasks for me. I appreciate you helping.” She said.

I’m not fond of people. I never had a fair chance to learn how to deal with others that well, only a young boy when I was left on my own. Still, she looks weary and stressed, and something about that makes me feel like I shouldn’t refuse. If it’s only small things, I can help a little.

“It’s no trouble.” A lie. Of course it was troublesome, and I’d just volunteered.

“What was your name?” She asked curiously.

“Siva, my lady.” I say, wondering if that’s formal enough for her or if I should have used some other title. I don’t know any of this shit. “This is Luna.” 

Luna caws once, my best guess at a greeting. She finally looks up, staring at me for a few moments, then to the bird. She composed herself quickly enough, smiling. “Josephine Montilyet. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She glances down at her paperwork, then gestures to the door. “There will be plenty enough to do soon. For now, please see the Commander for your shelter assignment.”

Reaching across the table, she hands me a few pieces of parchment, explaining them to me when she notes my confusion.

“This one is an instruction to get you something from the armory, even though you’ll be in here mostly, it’s been a camp wide instruction, armed and armored, just in case. That next one is for the quartermaster, Threnn. This will get you your bedding and some basic supplies. Lastly, take this one over to the tavern, we don’t have a designated space for meals as of yet, so this will let you get something to eat and drink, give it to Flissa. If it’s not too troublesome, I’ll have you report in tomorrow morning, after you’ve had a chance to rest.” She tells me.

I stare blankly at the paperwork, nearly all of what she just said might as well have been gibberish to me for all I knew. I have no idea who these people are, but instead, I nod, turning to retreat before she has a chance to throw anything else at me. Walking back out from the chantry, I look at the papers again, trying to recall which one went to who and if I could find these people without having to ask anyone else. I’m already so done with humans.

Someone a few feet ahead of me addresses another as the quartermaster, and I cheer inwardly. One less to find, anyway. Marching over like I’m supposed to be here, just in case they’re not fond of elves, or apostates, I suppose. For a moment, it had entirely slipped my mind that mages never formally trained aren’t _usually_ welcome anywhere but the circles. I present her with the paper I was asked to give her, and she looks it over for a few moments, before handing me a scratchy burlap sack filled with I have no idea.

She looks it over again, brows raised curiously. “Working for Lady Montilyet, huh? Heard a lot of others wanted that post too. They say it’s easy work, and she’s real nice. Shouldn’t be much trouble in that.”

I’m not really certain if it’s said in a way that says she thought I’d be trouble, or if she was trying to reassure me. I’m spared the extra conversation when I notice a small queue behind me, tossing the bag over my right shoulder. Luna stares at it from my left, pecking at it like it’s bothering her too.

“I know. It’s all strange.” I tell her sympathetically. “Hopefully this is only a short arrangement.”

I pass by a dwarf on my way out to the yard. I’d seen soldiers training in that area before, and I imagine if I’m looking for a Commander, that’s gotta be the place to look. It might not have been the most acceptable thing, but I made a game of it. Which of these were fancy looking enough to be the one  in charge? No hats to speak of, no real obvious signs of importance, not initially. Not until I spy a man in armor that looks far sturdier than anyone else’s. Must be the one I’m after.

I walk over to him, dismayed initially to discover once I’m up close that I’m about a half inch shorter. I’m about to say son when he turns suddenly, stopping Just as quickly when he realizes I’m right there. Sure. He just _had_ to be good looking too. Why, oh why, did this man have to have it all?

“Sorry.” He mutters. “Who are you?”

“Siva. Supposed to see you about room assignments?” I tell him.

He takes the parchment from me, reading through it quickly before he rolls it up, his hand hovering about an inch over my shoulder like he’s trying to herd me towards something indirectly. The worst of the whole situation shifts from how I would rather be anywhere else, to how I wish his hand was just a little closer. Luna caws at me as if to rally my attention back to what’s important, which is not drooling on myself over eye candy. But rather paying attention. This place wasn’t big, but it was busy, enough to get lost easily if I don’t watch how to get to my room.

“Looks like you’ve got your own room.” He says. “Lucky you didn’t join up as a soldier. They’re all in barracks.” He says with a sigh. “Would be nice to give them their own space, but it’s just not possible right now.”

“Ahh, that is a shame.” I say, only half hearing him.

I hate to admit it, but I’m more focused on watching his mouth move, wondering just how he got that scar.

“This is it.” He says finally. “I really must get back to drills.”

He’s gone so quickly I almost wonder if I imagined him. I decide to check it out. It’s not quite as large as some of the buildings, little more than a place to sleep and do some work probably. I drop my bag on a small table, tossing the bedding on the bed to worry about later. It’s an interesting thing. I haven’t slept on a bed before. Not quite sure if it looks more or less comfortable, but it’s a place to put my head. When the hell did I stop thinking about running away at the first chance?

There’s few items that look to be made for bathing, but that too is weird to me. I’ve lived on my own among nature for so long, I’m used to getting what I need for such things right nearby. Plants for washing, a river for bathing, food from the trees and bushes and the occasional wandering merchant. Lastly, there seems to be a bottle of some cheap wine, and some fancy looking wrapped confections? I’ll worry about that another time, I’ve enough to do without adding curious mysteries to it.

Recalling the other form, I vaguely remember hearing there’s a forge nearby, that’s probably where I get this armor and arms. I’m a mage, but I’ve used a sword before. I’m not too keen on bandits intruding on my space, so I’ve had occasion to need one at times, especially when discretion is called for, but I’m not so sure I like the idea of trading my worn leathers for anything else. Depends on what they offer, I guess. I heave a sigh and leave the little space, wandering off again to find the forge. It’s not a hard guess, fire has a familiar scent to me, and the smell of iron is strong enough to cover a good portion of the village. Takes only a good five minutes to get there.

Everyone appears to be busy here too, and I’m shuffled off to look through armor on my own, hastily given a blade without any questions as to whether I need one or not. I don’t use a staff, so I suppose it’s not readily obvious that I don’t require anything else. I have nothing to attach the sheathed blade to, so I tuck it under my arm and shuffle through. There’s nothing I really want, save a fresher set of black leathers. I scoop them up, returning to my room to drop them off before my stomach rumbles loudly enough to remind me it’s been who knew how long since the last time I ate.

Luna jumps to my arm and pecks the last page a few times, as if to remind me that I can go to the tavern and eat.

“Might as well get this over with. Once this is over, we’ll come back and get away from everyone until I have to deal with them again…” I sigh.

Kneading my brow, I leave again, following the path to the tavern, heaving another sigh, I walk up to the counter, setting down the last piece of parchment, the woman, I believe might be Flissa, smiles kindly at me before she hands me a bowl and a drink. I really don’t want to sit here, it’s very loud. I spot an open seat in the back, and I shuffle over, taking a seat, hunching over the table. So many humans. Grunting under my breath, I take a drink, looking around slowly. I take note of another elf, and for just a moment, I actually feel better, I’m not alone at least. Didn’t appear to be Dalish, no markings. Then again, I _am_ Dalish and just hadn’t gotten my vallaslin, so I guess he _could_ be. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad here after all...

 


	3. Chapter 3

**-Elias-**

I watch the elf approaching with a critical eye. I learned a long time ago that just because someone has pointed ears same as you, doesn’t mean they’ll be friendly. But he’s handsome though. With long dark hair that looks like it’s braided down his back maybe. The oddness of him is that there’s a squawking bird on his shoulder, eyeing me with distrust. A pet, perhaps. He approaches my table, holding his supper in hand and greets with, “Andaran atish’an, lethallin,” and I blink a few times.

I can hardly remember the bits of elvish my mother taught me, it’s been too many years now, but I at least know how to say hello. “Aneth ara,” I say.

“Is this seat taken?” he asks me in Common and I shake my head.

“By all means, take it,” I offer, and he sits down, setting his food before him. The bird with him glares at me, before hopping from his shoulder and pecking at the table. He sits down and with a polite but guarded air, eats quietly, not saying a word. I gather he’s the quiet type. Perhaps I wouldn’t be so curious, but I’ve been too long without good company, so I ask, “So how’d someone like yourself get mixed up in all this?” He blinks up at me. I gesture to the tavern, and village as a whole.

He looks around, then shrugs. “Just thought maybe I could be of some help.”

“Ah,” I lift my chin in a nod. “So what do you do around here?”

He thinks about it for a moment, then shrugs again. “At the moment, I’m assigned as Josephine’s assistant. You know, running errands and such. That sort of thing.”

“Ah. Now which one is Josephine?”

“Tall, thin, wears lots of jewelry, smells like musk, up in the Chantry? She’s a noble, I think.”

“Oh, right, I haven’t met that one yet. So how’d that happen?”

“Eh, just happened to be standing there.”

“That’s our lot in life, I suppose,” I say. He nods at that. We’re quiet for a minute more, as the elf across me picks at his food. I can’t take the silence, so I pipe up with, “I’m Elias, by the way.”

“Oh, right, sorry. I’m Siva.” I can tell he’s rather withdrawn, maybe a bit shy even, and not used to people seeking conversation with him–probably a hermit–and no doubt my pestering is getting rather annoying, but nevertheless he asks, “So what about you? What do you do here?”

“Uh,” I scratch my head, “Resident healer, actually. Didn’t–didn’t mean for it to happen, but I was nearby when the temple exploded, and I couldn't help myself, I had to investigate, see what it was all about. Next thing I know, I’m helping the healers with the wounded, bandaging people up. Unfortunately, we lost a lot of people, and I’m the only one left with any real talent at it I guess, so they picked me out of the crowd to do the job. Been here ever since.”

“Are you Dalish?” he asks me.

I shake my head. “No. My parents were farmhands here in Ferelden.” His eyes dim, as if he’s disappointed maybe, that I’m not one of those elfy types, knee deep in the ancient tradition, but he nods his head a little at my words. “And yourself? Your clan live nearby?”

It’s Siva’s turn to shake his head. “I don’t have one. Not anymore.”

“Oh. Are you like that Solas fellow then?”

“Solas?”

“Yeah, have you met him yet? You’ll know him when you see him. He’s practically a _beacon_ with that shining bald head of his.” Siva’s lip twitches a little at my comment, as if he’s fighting a smile, and I think maybe I’m finally starting to win him over. “Anyway, he’s a wanderer, like me. Kept to himself mostly, until he saw the Breach and thought he might be of some help. Says he’s seen such ancient magicks in the Fade, so he’s been counseling the Herald and the higher-ups on the matter.”

“Oh,” Siva nods. “Well, yes, I’m on my own now.”

“What, did they kick you out then?”

“They’re…they’re dead,” he begrudgingly admits, and my face falls.

“I’m so sorry,” I say in earnest.

“It’s alright. It’s been close to ten years now. They were killed here in the south by darkspawn during the Blight.” He stares at his plate, and I almost wonder if he’ll go on, until he finally says, “We were fleeing Ferelden when we were ambushed. There were too many of them. And those damned Wardens weren’t anywhere nearby to lend assistance. A lot of good they did. I was the only one to survive. I suppose I could’ve found another clan to join, but I got quite used to being on my own.”

“Only survivor, eh?” I remark. “Must’ve become quite proficient at slaying darkspawn then.”

A dark look crosses Siva’s face for a moment that would make a demon seem _pleasant_. “That I have,” he says coldly, and I don’t question it. Survived a horde of darkspawn? And not even a Grey Warden? I definitely don’t plan on making someone so skilled in combat my enemy. Makes him entirely too sexy, if I’m to be honest. He takes another bite of his supper, chews and swallows. Nearby his bird is squawking incessantly still, ruffling its feathers and flapping its shiny black wings in a huff.

“I was long gone by then,” I comment. “Already left home when the Blight swept through. Found myself out west, down in the Basin. I traded with some of the locals on occasion. A tribe of Avvar. Stone Bear, I believe it was called. Interesting folks, those Avvar. I find their spiritual beliefs rather fascinating. But anyway, I haven’t seen nor heard from my family since I left, but I wager they’re probably dead too.” I take a long drink of my ale after saying that, draining the cup.

I’m about ready for another one, so I flag Flissa down, and she comes with a tankard to refill it. Siva doesn’t remark on my story, so I can’t really say what he must think of it, but he looks a little sympathetic of my plight. Seems the two of us aren’t all that different, despite our backgrounds. He, a Dalish nomad, and myself, a homeless drifter. Both of us happening to be here for whatever circumstances, willing to lend a hand. Flissa pours my drink, and huffs at the bird.

“Really,” she sighs. “Must you have that lice ridden fleabag at the table, young man?” she says to Siva, who scowls at her. “Birds really shouldn’t be in a tavern, you know. They carry all sort of diseases, and leave their filth all over the place.”

“She doesn’t have lice, or fleas either,” Siva grumbles at her over his half-eaten plate, eyeing the black bird. “If she makes a mess I’ll clean it. You have my word on that.”

“Ought to speak to Sister Leliana about a cage,” she suggests, and just the word ‘cage’ makes Siva fidget uncomfortably. “She has those messenger ravens she keeps on her person. I’m sure she can help you arrange a comfy little home for your bird.”

Just to get her to shut up, Siva nods and says, “Yes, thank you kindly, I’ll take that under advisement,” And Flissa leaves, satisfied. But I doubt he means it. He looks like it would kill him to cage the poor creature. Can’t say I blame him. Meanwhile the bird is still frazzled, and giving me the meanest look I’ve ever seen on a feathered foul. “Creators, Luna, what’s gotten into you, girl?” Siva asks the bird, as if it might answer. “Ir abelas, ma falon. She’s not normally like this.”

“The fault’s mine, actually,” I admit, shrinking in my seat. “Never met a bird that particularly agreed with me.”

“Don’t like birds?”

“No, I like them just fine, they just…don’t like _me_.”

Siva studies me for a moment, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. Probably knows well enough that just like any other animal, birds have a sense about people. No doubt Luna, like many a bird, can sense a predator when it’s near. “I’m not going to cook you for supper,” I try to assure her, but she makes a clucking sound, like she doesn’t believe me. “Now, those nugs outside the village, on the other hand, don’t stand a chance.” Siva quirks a brow at me. “Have you tried the nug stew yet? Delicious.”

I smirk at him, and I swear, I think I see him _blush_ a little as he glances away.

“So what tickles your fancy?” I ask, and his eyes dart to mine. “You like ‘em tall and brawny, or tiny and cuddly?” I wink after saying that, and his lips slowly crack into a knowing smile.

“At the moment, I’d say tall, decked in heavy armor, with blonde hair and a rather attractive facial scar,” he admits, and I grin.

“Ah, fancy the Commander as well?” I ask, and he nods. “He’s a handsome one.”

“A pity for us both then,” Siva tells me. “I’m quite certain he prefers the fairer sex.”

“Eh, never know, he might be curious enough to be adventurous one night.”

“Shall we draw lots for him then?” Siva laughs, and so do I.

“Could always offer a mutually beneficial arrangement,” I shrug.

The topic of Luna’s hatred toward me having been forgotten, we go on to remark upon all the most attractive men to have run across so far since joining the Inquisition, and are quite enjoying ourselves when we have another visitor to our table. This one more welcoming than the last, however. He merely shakes his head at the presence of a winged creature, shrugs, and plops down in an empty seat with a mug of something. Pulls out a pipe from his coat pocket and lights it.

A dwarf, this one. Not the Herald though, but another, with flaming red hair. Sports a Carta coat, but doesn’t seem like a shifty Lyrium dealer. Has a nice, friendly, disarming smile on his face. Not too shabby looking, but his nose is fucking _huge_ , and it looks to have been broken recently. Boldly displays a splash of chest hair with his open tunic that I must say is rather fetching. He leans back in his seat and nod in greeting. “Evening gentleman,” he says. “Varric Tethras,” he then introduces.

“Elias,” I introduce myself in kind and reach across the table to shake his outstretched hand. “This is Siva.”

“Well met, friend,” Siva tells him.

“Likewise.” He stares at us both for an awkward moment, then says, “Neither of you have _any_ idea who I am?”

“Uh,” We share a glance, “No?”

“Ah good,” Varric sighs. “Been needing to get away from my reputation for a night.”

“Proceeds you, does it?” I ask.

“On occasion, yes,” he answers. Again, Siva and I share a look. “Either of you care for a game of Wicked Grace?”

I quirk a brow in confusion. “What’s Wicked Grace?” I ask, and Varric gapes at me. Then he laughs.

“What, have you been living under a rock or something, kid?” he asks, and suddenly I feel a bit self conscious for it. I might as well have been. My limited interactions with society don’t allow for much knowledge of it. I barely know how to read. Takes me forever to sound out a sentence. Most people think I’m a right simpleton, because of it. I keep my eyes on my cup while Varric laughs at me. But at least Siva has some pity for me, or I assume he does, because he says,

“I’ve never heard of it either.”

He could be lying, but it makes me feel better and I shoot him a small grateful smile, before Varric proceeds to explain the game involving cards with pictures on them, then shows us how to play.

All in all, it’s a good night, I’d say.

Still haven’t gotten laid yet, but I’ve finally made some friends.

Except Luna though. Pretty sure she hates me still. Keeps eyeing me disdainfully with those beady bird eyes of hers. I bet Siva’s still curious as to why.

Probably shouldn’t mention I can turn into a cat then, should I?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gods-damn it all, if Morrigan can turn into a bird, then why the fuck not?


	4. Chapter 4

-Siva-

I hadn’t really planned in making any friends here, didn’t really feel I needed anyone else. Elias seems nice enough, and even I can’t deny we have common ground. No doubt most here already assume we’re practically the same person on the basis of ears alone. Typical. Varric is nice enough too. Even after an explanation im not certain if I’m doing well or not. I suppose it doesn’t matter, it’s something to do.that isn’t completely irritating.

Honestly I’m still stewing a little over the possibility that anyone thinks I might be trouble. You ask me, _they’re_ the real trouble.

“So, Varric…where is it you come from?” I ask.

“Kirkwall.” He says.

“I’ve been near there. Never been in. Only on my way through…” I say. “Was already a clan in the mountains and I thought I’d pass. More of a solo act usually.”

At least I’m not alone in thinking the Commander is a fine specimen, but Elias is no slouch either. I’m not entirely sure, I think he might be flirting, but I can’t say. I’ve not really had a chance to get _familiar_ with anyone, but I’ve got eyes, and I can appreciate a good looking man.

Luna bobs about on the table, before jumping back to me, attempting to hide in my hair. She usually doesn’t seem to care much for others one way or the other, so the reaction is definitely noticeable.

“You’re alright.” I assure her.

Varric deals another round, and somewhere between the rounds of drinks and hands of cards, I’ve almost forgotten this is our first meeting. He sort of reminds me of my older brother. Technically all my siblings were older, the baby of six, three sisters and two brothers, and then there was me. It seems like it was forever ago, but not so long really.

I don’t recall how it came up, but Varric mentions he’s been here for a little while, and it occurs to me to try and press for information.

“So what’s everyone else like here?” I ask. “I’ve heard of Solas, but haven’t met him, and I noticed you earlier, but the others seem...strange.”

“Well, Curly is all business. Can’t tear him away from training and work for anything usually. Leliana, she’s about what you’d expect of a spymaster. Deals in secrets, the occasional assassination. Whatever a delicate situation calls for. Used to be a chantry sister, if you can believe it.” He says after a moment.

I haven’t met Leliana but between the threat of caging Luna and the word _assassination_ has me wondering if I even _want_ to. I wait, fully waiting to hear about my new...boss? I guess that’s the word. He doesn’t disappoint, taking a slow drink before continuing.

“Ruffles...what to say about her…” he hums. “She’s a sweetheart. Diplomacy is her expertise, deals with nobles and other difficult types. Practically never stops writing. You need anything you can’t get normally? She’d be the one to ask. Trust me, she’ll take care of you, she spends a lot of time worrying over everyone, so if she thinks you’re not doing well, she might fuss over you a bit.”

“Thank goodness. I wasn’t sure who I’d been roped into working for.” I mutter.

“At least you have just the one. I’m not sure I’m not serving the entire Inquisition at this point.” Elias sighs. “At least they pay well enough.”

“You’ve been paid?” I ask in disbelief.

I realize he’s been here a bit longer and I’ve only just arrived, but no one's offered me a single copper. Perhaps because I haven’t earned it yet, which is fair, but I still have to wonder why out of everything thrown at me, there was no mention of compensation. Really there wasn’t even an adequate description of what I’m supposed to do. I have no idea.

“Yeah. Gave me a pouch of coins earlier.” He says.

“All I got was a room, basically…” I mumble with a frown.

“You got a _room?”_ Elias asks.

“You didn’t?” I reply. I realize they’re busy here, but still. You’d think someone would have given him one. “Where are you sleeping?”

“On the ground.” He huffs.

I don’t really know why I make the offer, I know it’s not that I’m uncomfortable alone, but we barely know each other. He could be really and truly annoying for all I know, but maybe I feel some strange sense of kinship with him. Really, it’s hard to say.

“You can share mine, if you like. Even give you my blanket if you want. I was born in Ferelden, the cold doesn’t bother me.” I offer.

That much is no lie. I’m not bothered by the cold. One of the few things that really doesn’t trouble me in some way. I’m not what I’d call very old, twenty four summers old, in fact, but I’ve been told by a few people I’ve got the nature of an old man with how strongly I value my privacy.

It’s been a while since I’ve dealt with others. I’m not sure how to tell if things are going well, but they’re both smiling and no one's thrown a punch at me or tried to leave so I’d guess it’s a success. As a bonus, half the tavern has emptied, and it’s quieter, I can relax. A little more now.

“Y’know. Could be a bit before you get your room. I still don’t have one.” Varric laughs.

“I don’t believe that.” Elias sighs. 

“So where do _you_ stay?” I question.

“You’re looking at it. This place is cozy. I pretty much live at the Hanged Man back home, so this is what I’m used to.” He says almost fondly.

Truly, I guess he does like it. I know I couldn’t sleep here. I’d sooner go outside the village and curl up in a tree than sleep in a place like this. I don’t say as much, cautious about the possibility of offending him somehow.

“ _I’m_ used to trees. And snow. And birds. And other animals. Sort of like my new family I guess. This place has too many people, not enough wildlife and too few trees. The lake is _frozen!_ How do people even _live!_ ” I complain grumpily.

“Don’t ask me. I’m still struggling to get over people eating _snails._ ” Varric marvels. “Humans are _so weird_.”

“You don’t have to tell us. Seems like anyone else is basically laborers, whether we intend to be or not.” Elias chimes in. “We quite literally didn’t sign up for this.”

“I haven’t even had the chance to point out that I was actually just passing through. I was looking for a demon and human free grove, but no. Suddenly I work here. This place is bizarre. A hole in the sky, actually attractive humans, and like two other elves in the whole place. Not exactly ‘home’ material…” I grunt into my drink.

“You’re telling me. Only other dwarf is the Herald. I’d say we could just sneak out, but Thedas would fall apart without us, surely.” Varric says sarcastically.

“That’s the truth.” Elias agrees.

I nod, sharing in the sentiment. Varric raises his half drained mug, and Elias joins. Reluctantly, I clink mine to them, sighing.

“To saving the world and the asses of humans.” Varric toasts with a laugh.

“To not getting a room for my trouble.” Elias adds.

“To briefly wishing I _had_ enlisted as a soldier, thanks, hot commander.” I suggest.

“I’ll _absolutely_ toast to that.” Elias agrees.

“I sure don’t get that one, but more power to you.” Varric laughs. “So, what do you think, another hand or no?”

I’m not really certain I want to own up to enjoying it, but I glance over to Elias, wondering if he’ll agree or not. It’s still early enough in the evening that it isn’t going to make waking up any true difficult thing, but at the same time, if he’s done, I suppose the responsible thing to do would be to have a bath and retire for the night. I normally wouldn’t care one way or the other, but I have no idea what they might do if I opt not to show up. Rather than test it out, I resign myself to going whether I want to or not - and I don’t want to.

“Sure, I’ve got time. What about you?” He asks.

He’s smiling again but I can’t really Place if it’s aimed at me or more of a general good mood that has him looking like that. He has pretty eyes. Am I staring? I think I’m staring. Creators why am I staring? I force my eyes back to the table, tapping my fingers on the table as a distraction. Luna surfaces again, hopping down my arm, mimicking the sound with soft pecks at the table, though she keeps her attention on Elias like she doesn’t trust him.

I still don’t get it. Can’t be any worse than a bandit, and Luna’s never shied away from aiding in a fight, but this was no scuffle. Perhaps she thinks it _could_ be, strictly because I’m never usually around others for quite this long. Long enough usually to trade a few furs and little trinkets we find for whatever we might need. If that the problem, she might be dismayed to discover I have no answer to how long we’ll be here, or how many others we’ll have to deal with before we can continue on.

It finally occurs to me I haven’t answered yet, and I feel like I must look quite foolish now. I quickly nod, hoping it doesn’t seem out of place. “Yeah, I have time. All I’ve got left for tonight is finding a place to wash and going to bed, I guess.”

“Good, I didn’t want to play against myself.” Varric says jokingly.

“Feels like that’s usually how it goes” Elias said with a tinge of mildly bitter sarcasm.

Hesitantly, I raise my mug once more, quirking a brow curiously. “To playing against yourself?”

Varric bursts out laughing at that, clinking his mug to mine and Elias’ once more. I’m uncertain if I’ve said something funny or what he found so funny in that moment, but at the very least, perhaps he could relate in some way.

Just before he’s about to deal again, a woman walks through the door, a flash of red hair the first thing he noticed. She was looking at him, like she needed to get his attention, and Varric sighed, waving her over.

“What brings you here?” He asks conversationally.

“I had a few matters I wished to discuss with you.” She said.

The way her eyes flickered back and forth gives me the impression she doesn’t want to bring it up in front of me. Or, perhaps it’s both of us, I can’t readily tell. He tips his drink back, finishing it off before pocketing his cards once more.

“We’ll have to continue this later, it would seem.” He told them.

He wasn’t much for using people’s names, I’ve noticed, so I get the impression it’s not for his own benefit but rather to answer the unasked question of who this woman was.

“Lead the way, Leliana.” He says.

Creators. _She’s_ the assassin? I don’t know what I expected, but someone so _normal_ looking, if a bit pretty, was definitely _not_ it. I think I was expecting a truly monstrous type. Someone who undoubtedly looked like they could break you in half. Not someone who looked more like she could be at home in any exotic destination, relaxing somewhere with an unpronounceable drink in her hand, swatting away suitors she didn’t ask for. I’m not truly interested in her, but she has a look to her that I would definitely pin as being beautiful. She sort of reminds me of a girl I chased bugs with when I was a child. I can’t recall if she had red hair with certainty, but at the moment, I think she did.

She nods to us on their way out, and I offer what is probably the single most uncomfortable and stiff nod I’ve ever given in my entire life, hoping I haven’t give her cause to want me dead. Really, unnecessary. If they didn’t want me here, I’d be completely fine leaving and never coming back.

“You mentioned needing to find the bath? I washed earlier, I know where it is.” Elias says when they’re out of view.

“If you could show me, I’d be very grateful.” I murmur.

I could probably find it on my own eventually, but the idea of wandering around for a while looking for some place I didn’t know what it looked like for who knew how long? Maddening. This place was already one giant pain without looking completely lost, after all...

 


	5. Chapter 5

**–Elias–**

Once more Siva and I shared a glance as Varric and the Sister Leliana were vacating the premises. I don’t like that woman. Something about her gives me this creepy crawly feeling. But surely she can’t be that bad if she likes birds. Don’t like the way she eyed Luna for a moment though. Like she’s the hungry cat sniffing out her prey. I’ve settled that the best way to get on Luna’s good side is by preventing her capture, and if anyone thinks they’ll be having her play carrier pigeon, they’d better think again. And I gather the key to winning Siva’s approval is to win hers.

I’m awfully curious as to what the spy wanted to discuss with Varric. I’ve heard the whispers throughout the village that Inquisition agents will be moving to the Hinterlands, and that the fighting resumed there. What mages and Templars that did survive the explosion, or weren’t present at the temple, are now blaming one another for the incident that killed the Divine and her Grand Clerics. Really, I think they’ll find any excuse to fight at this point. Stupid Circle mages and Templars, thinking that warring with one another will solve their problems now.

I vowed to show Siva where the bathhouse is that I’d recently managed to find myself, so after dropping a few coins on the table to tip Flissa, I rise from my seat. Siva merely shakes his head at the act. Disbelieving that someone actually paid me. I hardly believe it myself. Doubly surprised he was given his own room though. That Lady Josephine really does look out for her workers. I probably have a bunk somewhere too, but everyone probably assumed I already know where it is, as Cullen thought I’d been formally recruited.

Makes no difference if I can’t find it, but there’s probably a tent somewhere with my name on it. Luckily, Siva is a nice enough fellow to offer me to stay with him. I don’t mind sleeping outside, but the cold frozen dirt really does a number on one’s back and joints after a time. Thank goodness for Siva right? But you know he never smiles. I think maybe I saw him crack one the whole evening. Real serious type. Not sure if he’s truly warming up to me, but I’m ever so grateful he’s offered me a place to bed for the night. Probably did it out of pity though.

Not that I really _need_ a place to stay either, but I won’t offend him by turning down his offer.

I get this feeling he doesn’t truly like me or anything, but just can’t help but feel sorry for me. It’s a pity, because I myself find him quite agreeable. Can’t really have any expectations of a serious relationship though. Doesn’t seem the type. A ‘solo act’ he called himself. Probably avoids attachment. I can understand that. When you’ve lost everything, it makes you reluctant to gain more things or people to care about, only to turn around and lose them too. Plus, what with the Breach and the world ending and so forth, who knows how long any of us have.

Other than that, my only argument is that he’s Dalish. Not that there’s anything wrong with that, but even if he has no clan, doesn’t mean he’s not one of them. Which means he follows their traditions, and he worships their Creators and such. I’m not saying I don’t believe in it, but I just don’t know anything about it to say for sure I believe in it. I feel pretty stupid for that fact. That I know next to nothing about my own history, my own people. In a sense, I basically have no people. And to Siva I’m no different than any other city elf, I wager.

And based on our mutual attraction to the surly Commander, I highly doubt he has a care for a spindly little elf like me. But he is handsome though, and I can’t tell you how long it’s been since I’ve laid my eyes on such beauty. I almost want to purr at the sight of him, and it takes great effort not to. But as I inwardly war with myself over my loneliness, and my baser need for affection, I silently lead him up the pathway to the top of the hill where the correct cabin lay. He doesn’t press for conversation, and I’ve annoyed him enough, so neither do I.

“Well, here we are,” I say when we arrive, gesturing to the cabin. “Not much in the way of luxury, but there’s privacy.”

I hear Siva snort beside me. “To some, privacy _is_ a luxury,” he tells me.

“True,” I nod. “But here you gotta pick one.”

He sighs. “Alright, I’d better go fetch some fresh clothes and other things. I’ll show you where you’ll be staying, you know, for however long you’ll be staying.”

“Much obliged,” I make mention, and follow him across the path.

Soldiers on night watch pass us by. Don’t even look at us, like we’re no more significant than the dirt beneath their feet, but they have nothing unsavory to say at least. Doesn’t much matter anyway, but it’s still unbelievable to me how some people here can be rather indifferent like that, but yet there are others who aren’t so. And then some are just downright deplorable. That man down by the gate? Seggrit’s his name. That one is a tit, for sure. But others, like Commander Cullen, and this Seeker Cassandra whom I never met, but apparently remembers me…

Well, shit, people are just weird. I imagine this will be a long few weeks, or months, or years, however long this Inquisition stays running and I keep working for it. I follow Siva to a one bedroom shanty that looks suspiciously like my childhood home, which is a bit unsettling. He opens the door and ushers me inside. It looks cozy, with a cot and other odds and ends. Bed’s barely big enough for one person though, let alone two. But Siva said before he’d lend me a blanket, so I won’t be too uncomfortable on the hard floor.

I smell something sweet, the scent just tickling the edges of my senses. I’m not hungry, as I’m still full from supper, but I’m curious about that smell, whatever it is. I wonder if it’s chocolate. I’ve never eaten chocolate, but I’ve heard it’s quite lovely. The space before me is quite homely and for a moment I flash back to my childhood. We lived in a shack like this. My baby sister would sleep in the bed with Mama and Papa, but me and my two brothers we’d sleep on the floor as there weren’t room for all of us on the mattress.

I fidget a little awkwardly in the cramped space, watching Luna flap her way to perch on a window sill while Siva gathers his things. Not sure how this night is going to go if Luna doesn’t take to me. Might keep Siva awake. And in turn I’ll be booted out on my arse. But he lights a lantern, then collects his belongings from the bed and says, “Make yourself comfortable. I should be back shortly.” I nod at that and huff when Luna flies after him, refusing to be left alone with me for even a minute. Then it’s just me again.

It’s quiet when you have only your thoughts to keep you company.

But I aim to get a good night’s rest and catch up on some of that sleep I lost, so I fetch the blanket from the bed and curl up in the corner, tucking it around me. I slip into a bit of a cat nap–no pun intended–and I’m almost asleep when I’m startled awake by Siva shaking my shoulder. I’m starting to think there’s some sort of grand scheme at play here to deprive me of sleep. I’m certain whatever gods do exist are playing an awfully mean trick on me. “What are you doing down there?” Siva whispers.

“Well, I _was_ sleeping,” I murmur.

“Would you not be more comfortable on the bed?”

“Makes no never mind to me,” I shrug, rubbing my eyes. “There’s not enough room for two.”

“There’s plenty of room for two,” Siva tells me.

He’s entirely too gracious, this one. “I really don’t mind sleeping here,” I assure him. “I’ve made do with far less hospitable arrangements.”

“Birds of a feather,” I faintly hear him mumble somewhat sarcastically. “We can share the bed.”

“I really don’t want to be any trouble to you.”

“If it was any trouble, I never would’ve invited you to stay.”

Yeah, _still_ trying to figure out why he doesn’t mind me staying though.

“Well, alright then,” I shrug a little, and peel myself from the floor, dragging the blanket along with me.

This is going to be awkward. Fitting into a tiny bed with an almost complete stranger. So I don’t completely dirty up the bed tracking mud I slip out of my boots and lay the blanket down to be shared, if he needs it. It’s then that I notice he’s not wearing a tunic. Good grief, Maker and Creators both! He’s shirtless. Bloody _shirtless_ I tell you! Obviously he meant what he said about not minding the cold, perfectly content to crawl in bed in nothing more than a pair of breeches, despite the chill.

I gape wordlessly for a moment before I come to my senses, and awkwardly climb in beside him. I’m now wedged between him and the wall–well, plastered against it, more like–trying not to touch him too much or press up against him too tightly. If I so much as brush up against that warm, toned body, I can’t guarantee I’ll be able to keep my hands off him. He rolls onto his side away from me, and pays me no mind as I shuffle around to get situated. I hear Luna crow loudly one good time, almost like she’s laughing at me, and I wonder if she suspects.

I half wonder if she’s just biding her time until I fall asleep so she can peck my eyes out.

But little does it matter once I find a comfortable position, curling my knees up near my face and pressing my head into the crook of my arm.

Less than a minute later, I’m fast asleep.


	6. Chapter 6

_**Siva** _

 

Elias is a peculiar man. Bed not big enough for two? My old bed wasn’t much bigger, and I shared with my brothers, I don’t mind it much, but it’s a far cry from it being just Luna and I. She’s not quite as serious about watching him finally, and I take that as my sign that he must be alright. If she had outright attacked him, I’d have left well enough alone.

I’m tired, like it’s been weeks since I slept, even though that’s hardly the case. I think it’s just been a stressful time and it’s caught up to me. I’ve heard whispers of fighting, and while Josephine hardly seems like the type to pitch me into the center of it all, I’m a little curious if I’ll have to. So far I’m unsure if anyone suspects, but I’d rather not reveal it all the same. Now if they were to mention darkspawn, I’d have rushed off, even without orders. Really, fuck those things. I’m no Warden, I don’t understand them in the same way, only that they’re _very_ satisfying to destroy.

He’s quiet, I notice. For someone who looks genuinely like he hasn’t had time to rest, he’s still, and nearly silent except the quiet sound of his breathing. I think this might be the closest I’ve been to someone who wasn’t a part of my family. It’s interesting to say the least. I can sort of feel stray strands of his hair brushing my back and it tickles. I get the impression he thinks I may feel sorry for him or something and that’s hardly the case. I can’t remember anyone I’ve really pitied. People make their own misfortune, I think. Maybe it’s because I can understand him a bit, or maybe it’s because he’s pleasant to look at and not as irksome as I figured everyone here must be, but I don’t mind him.

I recall him saying he’s a healer. Yet he’s unfamiliar with Elven ways, I wonder if he knows anything of what the wilds offer. That in mind, I think if I have the chance to go out, I’ll gather a few things and bring them back, show him how to use them. Might be of use, call it payment for letting him share his table, and being kind. Something, I don’t know, social customs aren’t my expertise.

I know I’m supposed to report in sometime tomorrow, but not knowing what I’m even supposed to do is eating at me. Part of me would like to march right up to the chantry and demand a thorough explanation but no doubt she’s asleep. At this time of night, no doubt the only people up are the guards, and I can imagine some of them are dozing at their posts as it is.

Moreover, I’m unsure if I’ve inadvertently come off as too pushy in my insistence that Elias could stay, perhaps he didn’t want to share the bed, maybe he prefers the floor. Maybe to him this is too intimate a thing, but doubtless it seems to me more comfortable than being stacked in bunks with dozens of sweaty, loud humans. At least that’s my concept of what it must be like to stay in the barracks.

Sleep overtakes me so suddenly I can’t even be sure if or what I dreamed of, only that I wake with a jolt hours later, sun filtering in through the window and cracks in the door, for some reason I mistakenly believe I’ve overslept. The presence of people just beginning to emerge from their dwellings, still yawning and rubbing sleep out of their eyes tells me it’s probably earlier than I needed to be up.

I glance back at Elias, still sound asleep, and decide not to trouble him. He looked like he needed the sleep and waking him early when I don’t even know if he has business to handle seems cruel. Instead, I collapse lazily into the chair by the little table, taking the time to rummage through the contents at the bottom of the bag more thoroughly.

There’s a waterskin, that’s handy to have I suppose. The wrapped things were light brown in color and smelled sort of sweet. I recall these little flowers that were pretty sweet, my sister showed me as a child, the tiny leaves were edible, and mildly sweet. Of course the berries I favor are too, so I imagine these might not be too bad.

The bottle appears to be some sort of wine, though the name is foreign and I can’t quite place it. It’s not as though I’ve _never_ been in a city before, I’ve chanced a visit or two in my years, so I know very well what it probably tastes like, only that I’m not familiar with where this particular one is supposed to be from. I gather that much doesn’t matter. Perhaps the right thing to do would be to share it, but Varric is still a mystery to me, and I’m not certain if Leliana relates to him and I in some way. Perhaps she wants him to figure out why I’m here, maybe she wants me dead. I don’t know but I’m hesitant to invite him over.

Then again, I don’t know if Elias is an ale-only kind of man or not, and asking outright if he wants to share it is beyond me. Nothing about him, it’s my own shortcoming I guess. I’m great with nature, but talking to others, asking questions and trying to stumble my way through a conversation is challenging in a way I can’t adequately prepare for. I wonder if maybe I come off as a complete asshole. I don’t meant to. Sure, I don’t like dealing with others, but that doesn’t necessarily mean I hate everyone.

I _do_ hate poachers, but that’s different. I live with nature so I take care of my home, and if someone is needlessly killing animals, I don’t mind the idea of using nature to skin _them._ See how they like it. No one seemed to realize how tenuous the balance that had to be maintained was, and that’s a frustrating thing. _No_ , you _can’t_  destroy something just because it’s in your way, it disrupts everything else, and upsets a very irritated mage in the process.

I let that go for now, reluctantly putting my shirt back on. I’ve refused the boots, fuck them if they think I want to confine my feet like that, too uncomfortable and hot. Luna makes a soft caw as if to echo my silent sentiments. I should make time to find her something to eat later. Perhaps I can find a crust of bread or some berries. At worst, I’ll try and dig up some worms if needed. She’s not a fussy girl at least.

I didn’t have the chance to inquire as to whether that form was only good for one meal or if it meant I could sniff out some breakfast too, I don’t believe I’ll have enough time to search outside the grounds, but I also don’t want to consume all the sweets. There’s a pile of parchment and a quill and some ink. These are supposed to be personal supplies, I recall. Who exactly do they expect me to write to? I can of course, even picked up a sort of private language, others like me often left little markings to indicate different things. Haven’t seen them personally, but I always appreciated them. Saved me dealing with dangerous things and the trouble of inspecting a place myself to know if it’s safe or not.

Elias yawns, stretching carefully, probably worried about accidentally punching me, not quite realizing I’m already up until his eyes crack open. I try to look friendly and offer at least a little smile, but i can’t see myself to tell if it comes off more as a scowl.

“Morning. Hope you slept well.” I say.

Luna drops from the window, landing on his head with a squawk of greeting before flapping over to my shoulder, seeming to realize that him waking up means she doesn’t have to be quiet anymore.

“Yes, Yes. Morning to you as well.” I tell her.

She warbles appreciatively, hopping down to peck at the table boredly. I understand that well, four walls never did much for me either, but at least there were some friendly types here. Almost enough to make me miss the community feel of a clan, but at the same time it’s just been so long I’m not sure I’d be able to adjust anymore. Even other Dalish elves might find me a bit difficult to get along with now.

I can’t really bring her to the Maiden, I can, but maybe it was best not to. Might only earn another lecture about caging her or how she’s dirty. She isn’t. She grooms herself quite well and evens dips in the water a bit when it’s not made of ice. I’m not about to argue the point with someone who clearly has no idea again. I also don’t want to force her to stay here though, she likes being around me. Thinking of all the nice things I’ve heard about Lady Montilyet has me curious if she has enough pull to authorize her to stay with me.

Imagine the look on Flissa’s face when I stick _that_ notice in her face. Luna is no damn letter carrying _pet_ , she’s family, and a creature of the wilds besides. I’m not making her a captive for anyone’s comfort. We’re a package set in my mind. If they expect to keep me, they’ll take her too, or get neither. It’s a bold sentiment, I’m not entirely sure no one will try to stop me from walking away, nor do I readily feel like testing that yet.

“Is breakfast available yet?” Elias rasps sleepily.

“Dunno.” I say with a shrug. “Was debating checking in on that myself, but I’m trying to decide if it’s worth it.”

“What is that?” He asks.

I look, following his pointing to the brown things on the table. Again I shrug, grabbing one up and holding it out in offering. Partly to be nice and partly because I’m still not sure I want to test it. I know they’re not poisoned, but I’m not entirely sure what it is, and I’m not ready to give it a try. It smells good, sure, but I’ve learned that not everything is the way it appears, for all I know it’s bitter, and I don’t want to find out the hard way. Still, I wonder if everyone got the extras or if it’s another mysterious perk of a post I didn’t want. Others wanted the job, and yet I was chosen? I didn’t even want to work here, it isn’t my fault if what others want fell into my lap.

I guarantee what I wanted, _no one_ got. Besides, much as I enjoy entertaining the idea of leaving, I’ve heard enough people talking to know that nowhere is going to be ideal as long as the Breach is a threat, so I guess regardless of what I’d like, this may be the best option. We’re just stuck here until something happens. That’s not a pleasant thought, but I guess I should be glad it’s not getting worse, even if it’s not exactly what I’d consider _better._

I don’t like it though. It leaves me feeling somewhat raw in a sense, like it’s beckoning me somehow. Asking me to give in to something. I’d guess it’s all the demons spewing out of the rifts, but I don’t like it. Feels like everything changed in an annoying way when the sky opened. This Herald is supposed to fix it? Well I wish he’d hurry it up. I glance out the window in time to see the Commander clanking by, ruffling his hair as he walked.

“Oh, there he goes.” I tell Elias, pointing.

“He really doesn’t get less attractive even after waking up…” he says.

“I can’t decide if that’s upsetting or not. I swear he has it all, how can someone look _that_ good first thing in the morning?” I sigh.

“I have no idea, but he certainly manages to make it look easy.” He agrees.

Turning away, I grumble to myself, undoing a loose braid and fixing it quickly. If nothing else, I should at least try to look more presentable, just in case Lady Montilyet actually is some kind of royalty, I don’t want to look shabby. I usually don’t give much thought for my appearance, but I think it might be something I should be cautious of here. I don’t know how humans operate, but maybe it’s important to look nice, considering here I’m probably already inherently less worthy than a human.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elias learns the importance of credentials

**-Elias-**

“You said you’re a healer, yes?” Siva asks me as he’s braiding that long hair of his, and I nod as I’m shrugging on my boots.

Now that I’m sober, and not quite so tired as I was before, the fog has lifted from my mind and I’m thrust with the reality of my situation. I know there are things I need to do today, and best I get to those tasks before anyone questions where I’ve been and what I’ve been up to. Don’t know if there’s a certain schedule I’m expected to keep, or a specific time I’m supposed to be at my post. But I know that I’ll be expected to be ready and waiting should someone need assistance.

I didn’t tell anyone where I’d be last night, so for all I know, someone came into the village late last night needing a healer and since I wasn’t where I was thought to be, they might be dead now, which concerns me. But I slept well. I notice that Siva was up before me, though I didn’t hear him shuffling about, and if he meant to let me sleep in, I’m very grateful, but just slightly irritated at the possibility of being late for something. I sweep my hair from my eyes before pushing to my feet.

Well, over all the night went better than expected I suppose. I woke up still alive, at least. My eyes weren’t pecked out, and Luna even seems a bit calmer today. Though it was awkward, sleeping next to Siva wasn’t all that uncomfortable, and I didn’t freeze to death at any point in the night. Now that I’m sober, I get a better look at him, and I find I still rather like what I see. I half suspected it was the ale and my little friend doing the thinking for me, but I’m pleasantly surprised to find it isn’t so.

“Where did you learn the healing arts?” Siva asks as I make my way over to the little table where he sits, and poke at the sweets he offered me to sample.

“Most of what I know is just what comes naturally to me,” I say. “But I did study briefly with the Avvar I traded with. Their shamans are reluctant to share their more ceremonial rituals with outsiders, but in the basic healing arts they can be a good source of learning. From what my parents taught me of the Chantry when I was little, I don’t imagine anybody here would appreciate some of their magical techniques, but they don’t seem to mind the mundane ones.”

“Interesting the Avvar would teach you anything,” Siva remarks on all that, with a lofted brow. “I’ve heard they don’t take too kindly to outsiders, even those not of the Chantry.”

“True,” I nod. “They don’t, but if you respect their ways, and more importantly, their _people_ , they’re a bit more willing to share their knowledge. The key is to be blunt, I’ve found. Don’t waste time with fancy words. They don’t like that. Best to get straight to the point, be forthright and honest up front with their lot, and don’t take anything you weren’t offered. That means it’s not yours to take. And if you leave them well alone, they’re fairly content to do the same.”

Siva quietly nods to all that. I fancy it’s not much different than the Dalish really, just with elves instead of humans. But what do I know. I reach for one of the sweets and pop it in my mouth to chew. Not bad, actually. I’m overwhelmed with sweetness much stronger than fruits or berries, more of a syruppy sort of sweet like honey–almost hurts my teeth–but at the center there’s some gooeyness and then a taste and texture much like walnut, with a hint of gooseberry.

“Not bad,” I say. “Ought to try one.”

I fish some gold from the pouch in my pocket and count it out on the table before sliding it over to Siva.

“What’s this for?” he asks, arching a brow in confusion as he gazes up at me.

“Well,” I shrug, “You got a room but didn’t get paid. I got paid but didn’t get a room. And you shared your room, so the way I see it, you’re owed a share of the pay. Just, you know, think of it as a pay _advance_ , or whatever they call it. You can pay me back when you get your due.”

He furrows his brow. “You can keep your gold. Don’t much need it anyway.”

I chuckle. “Oh I’m sure if we were out in the country, we’d both make do without it. You’re one of those woodsy types, right? Know all the names of the trees and whatnot? Well, I myself have been hunting and trapping in these parts for years, and one thing I’ve learned is that resources are scarce. Climate’s too harsh, even in the spring. Air is too thin this high of an elevation, and it gets too cold at night. I imagine the Inquisition’s soldiers will be bleeding this valley dry soon enough.”

I scratch my chin a little, and add, “Anyhow, you never know, might have something you require that can’t be got without it. Better to have than have naught when you need it, eh?”

Siva smirks a little. “Thank you,” he tells me, and I nod at the sentiment. “So you were a hunter?” Again, I nod. “That might explain why Luna doesn’t like you.”

I nod a little contritely at that and glance at the bird. “Truly, there’s no need to be so alarmed, m’lady,” I tell her. “I’m not one for poaching birds. I find your lot quite helpful actually. Good way to track wounded prey is to watch the skies the patterns of the feathered ones.” I swear I see Luna bristle at being compared to a buzzard, and I almost want to laugh. I won’t dare offend the creature by laughter at her expense, but I do crack a smile. I turn my eyes back to the other elf in the room.

“I’d better get going,” I say. “Valley is quiet now that the Breach is stable, but I can’t imagine that will last much longer and soon enough some poor fellow will be limping to my door with a botched leg need mending.” I take one last look at the place before I give Siva another smile and head outside. I notice he’s got all manner of personal effects, and I wonder to myself how I might get some. The rakish Commander told me if I needed anything, I should see the Quartermaster.

Who in the bloody Void is that one?

I pop my head back in the room and ask, “Uh, do you remember which one’s the Quartermaster, by chance?”

“Human woman, funny hat, smells like cinnamon. Just by the tent outside the Chantry.”

“Thank you,” I sigh, and head that way.

Indeed, she wears a funny hat, and I’m not entirely sure of its purpose. Doesn’t do much in the way of blocking out the sun. Just makes her more distinctive. So instead of looking like every other human, she looks like every other human but with a hat. Yes, _very_ distinctive. She’s accepting papers from a soldier and scribbling letters on them with a quill before handing them back when I approach. She doesn’t look at me directly, but talks when she sees my boots.

“If you’re here lookin’ for work, grab a broom and a bucket, and if anybody calls you knife-ear, come to me.”

“I’ve already got work, but I appreciate the offer,” I say and she looks up.

“Oh-uh-what did you need?”

“I’m the healer.”

She looks me up and down. “You don’t look like a healer.”

I regard her much the same before saying, “You don’t look like a Quartermaster.”

She purses her lips at me, but obviously she doesn’t have time for chatter so she cuts straight to the chase and says, “What can I get for ya?”

“The Commander said if I needed anything I should come to you.”

“S’right,” she nods. “One of my tasks here is to get workers their supplies among other things. If you’re in need of curatives, you see Adan. Items like bandages, you see me. Supply shipment comin’ in from Jader on the morrow should have some items for the infirmary.”

“What about personal items?” I ask, and she lifts a brow. “What can you get for me?”

“Depends on what you need. Seggrit has items at his stall for sale if you’ve got the coin. Food and drink in the tavern if you don’t much feel like eatin’ that scrap they serve down in the mess tent. Can’t say I blame you in that regard. What Cook makes barely passes for food, and we’ve not the hunters for better cuts. If you need another bar of soap, razor, comb or such, we only issue the first one you got when you were recruited. You’ll have to buy any replacements with your own coin.”

“I never got the first,” I explain, and she blinks a few times.

“What? That can’t be right. Hold a moment.” She ducks inside her tent and comes out with another slip of parchment, glancing over it. “What did you say your name was?”

“Elias.”

“Huh, don’t have you here. Must’ve been a mix-up.” She looks at me carefully again. “You’re the healer, you said?” she questions again, and I suspect she sniffs a lie in all that, which makes me sigh, kneading my brow.

“I am. Seeker Cassandra appointed me. She’ll vouch for me.”

“Lady Cassandra isn’t here. She left this morning with the Herald.”

Gods damn it all. “Where’s Commander Cullen? He’ll tell you.”

“Commander Cullen is still in a meeting with the other advisers at the moment, so if I’ll have to accost him for your credentials, you’ll have to wait then. Otherwise I’ll just have to assume you’re with the other riffraff stinking up the place.”

Well, that was just rude, wasn’t it?

“Fine then, I’ll wait.”

I’ve got better things to do anyway. I march to the tavern and have a seat, drop coin on the table for poached eggs. One of the few niceties they’ve managed. There’s a chicken coop somewhere. Heard them clucking the other day. Makes for a good start to the day to have a full stomach. After that, I make my way to the ‘infirmary’, as she called it, and wander about the work space. Solas is gone. I assume he left for the Hinterlands as well, so it’s just me today, alone with my work.

Now that Cullen’s soldiers have cleaned up the valley, there are no demons afoot, so no soldiers come in with botched legs, despite my words to Siva on the matter. I expect it will be much like yesterday, and nothing more than a case of the sniffles or a bad stomach ache will come my way. Could be worse, I could’ve been sent to the Hinterlands, and be busy ducking to avoid Templars’ arrows and mage fire while field dressing the wounded. I pity the poor sod stuck with that duty.

But if I’m honest, I’d rather have that duty. I stayed to help people, and my being here is rather redundant if I’m not helping anybody. But I aim to make myself useful and so I count all my supplies in stock, thinking I’ll make a list of things I might need from the Quartermaster. I find a scrap of paper and a bit of charcoal to scratch notes. “Stringent, stringent,” I mumble, tapping my chin, smearing black marks on my face, “How the fuck is that spelled? Striiingeennnt–”

“Starting trouble already, are we?” grouses a voice from the doorway that is entirely too sexy to exist, and I whip sharply at the Commander’s words.

“Beg-beg pardon, sir?” I gape up at him.

Siva is right, this man has it all. His very presence in the room sets my pulse racing. Does he have to have that delicious scar I’d like to lick right off his face? Or better yet those beautiful amber orbs I could stare into for days and days? Oh and let’s not forget the way he regards me just now with that serious gaze, folding his arms across his broad chest as he glares down at me with authority like a meddlesome child, is fucking _gorgeous_.

“Quartermaster Threnn approached me to ask of your credentials, saying you’d never received any of your effects. Were you not formally recruited by one of our agents?”

“You were the one who said I was,” I shrug, to which Cullen grinds his teeth.

“You _are_ the healer, are you not?”

“Well, you tell me. Am I?”

“My time is precious, young man, and I’ve none to spare for games.”

“Well me neither!” I shriek, my aggravation from the last week finally rising to the surface. Cullen looks like he’ll backhand me for the tone I’ve taken with him, but only for a moment before he backs away in surprise as I jab my finger at his shining breastplate while I rave at him like an angry housewife. “Godsdammit it all, I was just a hunter! Passing through when I saw the explosion and thought I could help! Next thing I know I’m stitching cuts, setting bones, left and right–

(I heave a breath. Cullen’s brows shoot through the roof.)

–Exhausting my mana for days on end trying to scrape _your_ soldiers off the ground and get them back into the fight while Chantry sisters stand around screaming their bloody heads off instead of lifting a finger to help! Then what healer you had suddenly dies and I’m left all on my own to deal with matters, all while the same people I’m trying to help want to string me up for being a bloody apostate! Throughout all this I’ve barely slept and I don’t know what’s what, so you tell me!”

I stop again to take a breath and realize how close I’ve gotten in the man’s personal space, so I take a step back. “You tell me, Commander,” I finish. “Am I your bloody healer or not?”

“U-uhm,” he stammers, reaching to rub the back of his neck. “I would say so yes?” he winces, shrinking back as if expecting me to bark at him some more. I heave a sigh.

“Right, well, what’s the problem then?” I ask. “Am I going to get my personal effects as promised or not? Because if you’d rather me walk on out of here, I won’t–”

“No, no,” he holds up both gloved hands almost defensively. “I’ll have someone deliver the items to your quarters.”

With an exhausted sigh he turns to leave. “Uh, about that.” He pauses. “Where are they?”

He turns and shakes his head a little as if so disbelieving of it. “The cabin next door,” he tells me, pointing, then marches away. “Maker’s breath,” I hear him mumble in parting.

Well then.

“I think I need to lie down for a moment,” I sigh aloud, palming my face.

I screamed at the Inquisition’s Commander.

I’m quite amazed to find I’m still alive to tell Siva all about it later over a drink.


	8. Chapter 8

_**Siva** _

 

 

I wait until after Elias leaves to sample the sweets, just in case I don’t really like it. I’d rather not give someone a reason to laugh at whatever unusual face I might make. I stare at it for a few moments, unwrapping it like it was a snake that might bite rather than an innocuous piece of food. Popping it in my mouth, I chew it slowly, letting myself really taste it before I decide he’s right. It really isn’t all that bad. Messing about with the coins he gave me, I look them over slowly. Definitely seemed more complicated than it needed to be. I’ve never had to trade currency for goods, I wonder if it’s really as easy as handing them over and getting what I need?

I suppose I’ll try my luck at the tavern again, though instead of perching Luna on my shoulder, I hide her under my hair.

“You’ll have to be quiet just a little longer, maybe there’s something you like. Hopefully she’ll be able to help a bit.” I tell her.

Luna makes her opinion on the matter well known with a few angry chirps. She quiets down after a moment and I head for the tavern, far less crowded than it was the night before at least. I suppose mostly everyone must be too busy to drink right now.

Upon entering, Flissa regards me with scrutinizing eyes, like she’s making sure I came alone this time. Seemingly satisfied, she smiles then.

“What can I get you?” She asks.

I shrug a shoulder, sighing. “Does my slip cover breakfast or only last night’s supper?”

“Typically we charge, the mess hall is free, but I suppose I can make an exception today. Bit of potato soup left over from the early morning rush, if you want.” She offers.

Perfect. I like potatoes, so I nod quickly before she has a chance to reconsider the offer, accepting the bowl she offers me. I don’t recognize anyone this morning, so I shuffle as far away from others as I can, sitting away from prying eyes. I suppose I probably need to report in soon myself, so I eat quickly, discreetly passing a bit of the bread on the side to Luna, who eats quietly, accepting a few small pieces of potato when the bread is gone. It’s not much, but enough until I find something better.

When I finish my meal, I bring the bowl back up, making my way to the chantry with a sigh of annoyance. Not as many sisters...mothers? I have no idea what to call them, but there’s not many still here today, and few people clogging up the corridor, no one really taking notice of me. If only the rest of the village was like this. I might actually find it somewhat enjoyable. As it stands, Elias and Varric are the only people I know well enough to say I find them agreeable, and Cullen is the only one who doesn’t _need_ to be agreeable. He could be outright mean for all I cared, he was handsome, and as much as I didn’t want to care about that, it was too obvious to ignore.

Honestly I’m a little surprised to discover that Elias himself looks pretty good too. I hadn’t paid a ton of attention last night, but I couldn’t really deny it when I looked this morning.

Reaching the door, I’m not sure if I should knock or if I’m just supposed to walk in. Luna returns to my shoulder with a squawk, and before I think about it, I knock.

“Come in.” She says.

Opening the door, I walk in and she smiles at me, gesturing to a cup of what smells like tea. I wasn’t expecting that much, but I accept.

“Just the person I wanted to see.” Josephine tells me. “I noticed I couldn’t find your file, so I just figured I’d make one. Probably an oversight, I’m certain.”

Gesturing to a seat, I look at it for a moment before I sit down. I didn’t figure I’d be able to sit at all on this job, but maybe there’s little enough going on right now that it’s no trouble.

“What’s your full name?” She asks conversationally.

It actually takes me a bit to remember, I haven’t had to use my clan name in what feels like ages. “Um...Siva Orani. Orani is the clan name.”

“Well...allow me to say Andaran Atish’an.

I’m a little taken aback, I didn’t quite expect that, nor do I want to admit that it gives her a point or two in her favor. She’s at least making an effort to make me feel welcome, and I almost get suckered into believing the rumors right off.

“I wasn’t aware you spoke Elven.” I tell her truthfully.

“I’m afraid that’s it…” she admits. “Where are you from?”

“All over.” I tell her. “If you’re asking about my clan, they’re gone now, since the Blight.”

“Oh my…” she sighs. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s alright. Luna is my family now.” I tell her, reaching to scratch at her back lightly. Speaking of, I’m given to understand she’s not welcome in the tavern.”

Josephine seems absolutely taken with her, hesitating a moment before she reaches towards her. Luna hops down my arm, nuzzling into her hand just a bit. Well, I guess that means she must be alright.

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll make sure no one mistakes her for a messenger.”

“I’d appreciate that, it would kill me if anything happened to her.”

 _“Or someone else.”_ I think to myself.

“If it’s not too much trouble, perhaps you might look over Leliana’s birds, I’m told some of hers are exhibiting problems…” she asks.

Initially I want to refuse, she concerns me. Then I think about it and it might be perfect. If I help with her birds, maybe I’ll be indispensable and she won’t want to bother me.

“I can take a look.” I agree. “May I ask what exactly I’m supposed to do for you?”

She sighs, palming her head for a moment. “I can’t believe I didn’t explain it before. I apologize. As yet, we’re still small enough that there isn’t a ton I’ll need yet, delivering orders and reports to the appropriate people, acting on my behalf for smaller meetings, if needed writing up some requisition forms and responses. Later on as we grow, I’ll have more for you to do, but not just yet.”

Sounds more irritating than I imagined. I have to deal with people I don’t know, people who may very well decide to complain directly to me? My head hurts a little just thinking about it. Instead, I force a smile.

“I can manage that.”

“Oh, I’m so relieved to hear that…” she tells me. “Right! I almost forgot. Are you trained in anything? Any fighting experience, magic?”

It slips out before I can stop it and I can’t fathom why. “I’m a mage. I was first to my Keeper.”

“Ah, that must have been fulfilling.” She says.

No chains? No one rushing in to force me in the dungeons or anything? I suppose if the circles and Templars alike were too busy killing each other, it wouldn’t come to that, but I expected worse…

“I suppose it was.” I tell her.

I sip my tea, almost forgetting about it. Surprisingly, I like it very much. The warmth flows down and nestled in my chest, like a warm embrace and it seeps into my bones in a way I rather enjoy. She pushes a tray with little spongy looking cakes on it, and I take one, breaking it in half to share with Luna. She pecks at it with a happy warble, and I eat it with little thought.

No wonder people wanted this job. She seemed far more considerate than anyone I’ve met so far, Varric wasn’t wrong that she seems very concerned with my well being.

“So, do you have anyone special?” She asked, less for her records and more what I gather is an attempt at conversation.

“No, there’s no one.” I say dismissively.

I’ve never had the chance, but hey, there’s a first time for everything. Wouldn’t mind a little tumble with a certain blonde, but since it seems that’s not going to happen, I guess it’s unlikely. For just a moment, I think to Elias, and I can feel my face heat up a little. I’m certain I shouldn’t even think about that. Probably not his type, not really.

“That seems a shame.” She comments.

“It’s alright with me.” I tell her.

Finishing up my tea, I gesture to the pile of papers sitting next to her. “I take it those are for me to deliver?”

She looks to them, arranging them into four piles, nodding. “Yes, I need you to bring these one's to Threnn, so she can work on getting what we need, these go to Leliana, these go to Adan.” Holding up the last stack, she continues. “These go to Cullen, if you can catch him.”

Oh, I can definitely catch him. Tracking comes naturally to me, so I have no doubt I can find him. What I don’t know is how he might react to me stopping him to take them off my hands.

“Alright. I’ll get to it. Anything else you need?” I ask.

“This will be fine for now, I’ll let you know if I have anything when you return. If anyone takes issue with Luna, tell them I say it’s fine.” She instructs.

“Alright...thank you.”

I take the parchment piles from her, Luna returning to my shoulder. No problem. I know three of the four and I’m certain I can hazard a guess as to where to find this Adan. I’ve seen much of the village by now, save one area, and it’s probably there that I’ll find him. That in mind, I figure I’ll work it in a loop. Threnn is just outside, and Leliana practically right next to her, if Adan is where I think he might be, I can go from him to Cullen and back around to see if I have anything else to do or if I can go hide away for the night and pretend none of this happened.

Thankfully, I’m spared the small talk with Threnn, who takes the parchment and nods, and Leliana accepts hers with a polite nod, but it’s clear she’s very busy too, probably plotting multiple assassinations based on what limited knowledge I have of her.

I make my way up the small hill, peering in through a few windows, finally finding one with a man who, if anything looks more done than I feel. I almost feel compelled to stay and complain with him, but he’s already fending off his own fair share of people, so I leave them on a table so I don’t interrupt, after making sure he sees that I have them, of course. He grunts unpleasantly at the pile, like he’s annoyed that he’s now got that much more to do, but nods nonetheless.

I’m on my way to the training grounds, when I accidentally bump into someone.

“I’m sorry I - “ I begin until I look up.

Creators, this _must_ be Solas. I have no proof of such a guess, save that he’s so bald I’m not certain I’ve not momentarily gone blind from just how shiny it looks in the sun. He reaches out to steady me, and Luna immediately squawks distrustfully at him. Something isn’t quite right about him, I’m guessing, but from the sounds of it, he should be mostly alright.

“Be careful, lethallin.” He tells me.

“Sorry…” I mumble again, setting off again.

I’m hoping he doesn’t decide to stop me to talk, and thankfully he doesn’t, I can see he has questions, and I’m not keen to answer them, not when I’m not sure I wouldn’t just be too caught up in just how _bald_ he fucking is. Glancing back, I see he's still looking, so I hasten my steps, stopping again when I find Cullen.

“Excuse me…” I say.

He turns, looking me over curiously, eyeing the pages in my hand. He points, and I nod. He reaches for them and his hand brushes mine for a fraction of a second and I feel my pulse set off full force. I’m hoping he doesn’t notice, also a little grateful that I didn’t honestly have to chase him. That was fortunate at least. He looks through them but lowers them long enough to bark orders at a recruit, and it makes me jump. I don’t expect the sharp words, and I feel like a total fool. I linger perhaps a bit longer than I mean to, and it takes Luna pecking my shoulder hard to alert me.

At least I’m not drooling I guess. He seems far too busy to notice I’m still there, so I sneak a longer look, sweeping from his hair down his back slowly. Damn. There’s no way this man is real, no one was _that_ good looking.

Huffing under my breath, I walk away, practically stomping back to the chantry. Partly because I’m ready to give up for the day, and partly to try and avoid letting all my blood go the wrong way.

“Hopefully no one else needs anything.” I say to no one in particular.

I’ve not been up for more than a few hours and I’m already feeling so drained I could sleep for the rest of the day. Luna seems to relate to that, flapping just a tad, like she’s fully done with all these people too. That bottle of wine makes so much sense now...

  



	9. Chapter 9

**-Elias-**

I hate clerics.

Just fucking _hate_ them.

I don’t need to tell _you_ how useless they are.

But anyway, where was I? Right. After Cullen left the infirmary and I’d gotten over my minor panic attack over barking at the man, the rest of the afternoon carried on rather consistently with the day before. People bustled about outside my hut, trudging up the path to deliver reports or crates full of supplies, from far away I could hear the steady hammer pinging against metal down at the forge, and the whinnying of horses in their stable. But inside things were fairly dull.

Only once was I interrupted from my silent contemplation of things when one of the elven pages entered my dwelling complaining of an upset stomach, and I sat her down. Young girl, much younger than me, looking deathly pale, and nauseous. I ask for her name as I politely lift her shirt to check for soreness, bruising or discoloration and gently press on her abdomen. “Lenna,” she tells me. I pull her shirt down with a sigh and introduce myself in turn before proceeding to get to the bottom of this.

We go over everything, from her work here in Haven as a seamstress, mending the tears in the Sisters’ tunics, to what she had to eat that day, as to what might’ve caused this stomach upset. As I’m checking her over, listening to her symptoms to piece it all together, an actual Sister comes in with another, both wearing their red and white robes with their funny looking habits hiding their hair, one with her arm around the other who’s holding a kerchief and sneezing.

“If you’ve a cold, bed rest and lots of fluids,” I recommend distractedly and turn my attention back to Lenna, checking her forehead for fever, then reaching for her wrist to check the regularity of her pulse, counting the beats in my head. I hear one of them ‘ahem’, rather rudely. “In a minute.”

“What is the meaning of this?!” one of the Sisters starts, and both Lenna and I glance up at her.

“I beg your pardon?” I ask.

“Young man, my fellow Sister is very ill! She requires your undivided attention!”

“And I gave you my attention, as well as my instruction,” I huff. “If you’ve a cold, get some rest. If it’s not cleared up in a few days, come see me. There’s nothing more you need.”

“Well, I’m afraid we can’t except that kind of treatment,” she tells me, and I rise to stand before her, folding my arms. “And if you weren’t so busy tending to your own kind you would give my Holy sister the proper care she requires. We were told the clergy would get proper treatment! Not be treated like secondary citizens! Were Most Holy still alive, she would not stand for this mistreatment! Nor the neglect of our most treasured parishioners!”

“Neglect?” I chortle. “Proper care is seeing to your illness properly, and she just needs rest. Or is it that I’m treating an elf before a human?” I step closer, and dare her to answer that in a way that doesn’t make her sound like a racist old bitty. “She was here first, ma’am. I treat my patients in the order I receive them. No more no less. If you have a problem with that, I suggest you take that problem to somebody else, because I won’t hear it.”

She gapes at me in shock before turning away with a huff.

I turn back to see Lenna with those big eyes of hers like saucers.

“That was mighty brave of you, sir,” she tells me then, with the smallest voice. Yeah, brave. Or stupid, more like. I have no doubt that when those Sisters take their problems to one of the officers, or the advisers maybe, they’ll twist it around to make me look bad. And how _dare_ an elf speak to a cleric like that, they’ll say. Well, I don’t rightly care. I’ve been spit on and snubbed by humans my whole life, and I’ve little care to what these people could throw at me. Besides, I’m not their servant, I’m their Healer.

Gods damn it, if I’m to do this job, then I’ll bloody well do it, but I’ll do it how I want.

“It could be that you just have a bit of food poisoning, da’len,” I tell Lenna, and she nods at that. “Ate a bad meal, drank some sour milk, often turns the stomach. It’ll clear up in a few days. But have you had any personal relations with any of the men here?”

“P-personal relations?” she stammers, confused.

“Yes. Of the romantic sort. Morning sickness is quite common in the early stages of pregnancy.”

“Pregnancy! Maker’s breath! Oh, oh no, sir. No, I don’t think I could be that.”

I chuckle at little. “Well, have a lie down, and I’ll speak to the Potions Master, see if we can’t whip up something for your stomach.”

“Alright.”

I get her comfortable on the cot and step outside, seeing the cabin just across the way, where I’ve often spotted the quirky man that flitted about inside. I’m still thinking about those damned Chantry Sisters and their peevish attitudes. Or, well, the one. The other was too busy sneezing. I’m hesitant to enter Adan’s cabin as he appears to have company. He’s bickering with someone as I cautiously enter the dwelling and wait by the door. When he finally notices my presence, he huffs.

“You already delivered my messages earlier young man, and I’m quite busy at the moment, so if you need–”

“Is that any way to treat your new neighbor?” I interrupt, and Adan turns to me completely, then blinks rapidly as if startled. He looks me up and down, taking in my appearance.

“Oh, you’re not…My mistake. Thought you were someone else. What can I do for you?”

“I’m the Healer.”

“You don’t look like a Healer.”

“I get that a lot.”

There’s a pause, and Adan stares for a moment before getting this look on his face like he just remembered something and says, “Oh, right, I remember you now. ‘Course, last I saw you, you were covered in rags, elbow deep in someone’s blood. I’m Adan. We haven’t formally met yet, but I serve as the Inquisition’s potion maker. I’ll be the one keeping you in full supply of whatever curatives I can get my hands on. But there’s not much at the moment without the Circle’s resources.”

He continues his task, setting on a mixture to distill in the alembic, the liquid churning and bubbling in the glass.

“I’ve been doing what I can,” he continues, “With what few things I’ve got to work with, so what I have is limited. Seeker Cassandra’s done her best to keep me in stock of healing potions, and I have some herbs in stock, but not much until the supply shipment comes in.” He flits to another task, animatedly as he talks, and I watch with keen interest. He’s not much in the way of looks, but I like him. He’s blunt, and there’s a sharp wit in his eyes I find rather fetching.

Good Gods! Am I so desperate for a man that now I’m horny for the potions maker?!

I bite my cheek and follow him about the workspace as he points out to me everything he has on hand, bottled and labeled in little jars. “–There’s some whitherstalk on the top shelf. Many a woman will ask you of it. If consumed adequately it makes a potent preventative.” Ah, yes, I’d heard that. Avvar shamans will swear by it as well. It’s no guarantee, but it does lessen the chance of pregnancy by a magnitude. I nod at his words, and poke around the shelves.

I can’t make out some of the bottles. Adan’s handwriting is legible, but some of the words are so long it’ll take me weeks to sound them out. But I suppose if I forget what is what or need something offhand I can just ask the man for it. “Where did you study?” Adan asks me, striking up conversation once I’ve had the tour.

“Here in the south,” I answer, and browse the selection of tomes on a nearby shelf.

“The south?” he questions. “Never heard of a Circle here in the south.”

“I’m not from the Circles,” I admit, and hold my breath for his reaction.

“Oh, right,” he mumbles as if he forgot. “You’re an apostate then. Like that Solas fellow. He’s an odd one. So who taught you the trade?”

“Avvar shamans taught me most of what I know,” I admit. “But I don’t reckon the Chantry would take too kindly to that fact.”

Completely ignoring that last sentence, Adan steps closer, eyes wide, and excitedly asks, “You actually managed to get close to the Avvar? That’s fascinating! I’ve always wanted to know how their rituals might differ from ours, but I’ve never met anyone that was able to get close enough to them to study, much less be allowed to learn their ways. What little is known, anyone can pick up a book and read, but not in so much detail.”

I have a feeling that if I don’t stop him now, he’ll pester me with question after question about it, but I have work to do, and so does he. I smile a little. “Well, perhaps I’ll tell you all about it later.”

“I’d be delighted,” he nods.

“At the moment I have a very nauseous young patient and I’m in the need of some ginger, or perhaps mint, if you have any.”

“That I do,” Adan tells me, and procures it.

“Thank you kindly.”

I immediately head back to my patient and hand her the herbs to chew that might help keep her food down and she thanks me profusely. I don’t know if I’m supposed to ask these people for money or not–don’t really know how that works, but I know the shamans always traded cures to ailments for items or favors–and I don’t know how the economy for this Inquisition is structured, but when Lenna offers to pay me for my services, I decline. A healthy worker is a happy Inquisition, right?

And that’s payment enough for me. So I send her on her way and prepare myself to deal with the next case of the sniffles or clueless idiot that fell from his horse and sprained his leg. Neither of those occur, but I do get a message from one of the scouts, who–I shit you not–salutes me before turning to leave after dropping off the message. Either he’s a fellow elf and therefore has no superiority complex and means to show respect, or despite the fact that my ears are pointed, my position demands it.

I don’t fucking know, he’s wearing a hood, but the message takes me a minute to make out. The handwriting is scrolled and loopy calligraphy, and all the letters are strung together in what my Ma used to call ‘cursive’, which I could never get the hang of. ‘Please come see me when you have a moment. Signed, Sister Leliana.’ Shit. This can’t be good. I have a feeling it has to do with those irksome Sisters from earlier. Gods damn it, I _knew_ that would come back to bite me in the arse.

With great reluctance I step out into the sunlight, squinting, and scan the vicinity for that flash of red hair under a purple hood, and when I don’t spot it immediately I take off down the lane to look for her. Luckily, she’s in a tent just outside the Chantry and I don’t have to spend too much time tracking her down and make her think I’m purposefully avoiding her. “Ah good, I was hoping you would have a moment to speak,” she says when she hears me, then straightens to look down at me.

“Was there something you needed?” I ask, scratching my head, and she smirks a little, as if she finds my cluelessness somewhat amusing.

“One of the Sisters here in Haven came to me with chief complaints of our Healer’s mistreatment.”

“Mistreatment,” I huff, disbelievingly. “She had a cold. I told her to get some bed rest and drink lots of fluids. What any healer would say. That’s all. How is that mistreatment exactly?”

“She complained that she was profusely ignored in favor of another patient with a lesser problem until you finally gave her your attention, and that you were rude, and entirely unsympathetic of her condition. In short, your bedside manner was terrible.”

I snort. “Sure it was,” I grouse. “Look, I didn’t ignore her. She just had the sniffles, and that ‘lesser problem’ was one of the workers who’d exhausted herself trying to work despite constant nausea and vomiting and only came to see me after one of the other workers _forced_ her to go because she was worried she’d be dismissed if she neglected her work, because apparently no one mentioned to her she’s a worker, not a bloody _slave_ , and _some_ people here don’t know the damned difference.”

Leliana swallows all that before saying, “I see. Well, I know this is difficult to deal with, but at present, the Inquisition runs by the favor of noble houses, most of whom are Andrastian, and should complaints of mistreatment of the Chantry’s members reach their ears, we lose their support. I understand that one problem cannot be ignored in favor of another, but you must understand that the Inquisition’s reputation is just as intricate a part as it’s agents.”

“You sound like you don’t like that anymore than I do,” I comment, and she nods.

“I never said I enjoyed it.”

“Well then you tell your nobles what will happen if the Inquisition’s workers are neglected. ‘Want of a nail’, Sister.”

“Pardon?” Leliana cocks her head in confusion.

“Old proverb. ‘For the want of a nail, the war was lost.’ Little things matter more than you know.”

“I’m afraid I don’t rightly understand,” she tells me. I sigh.

“An old story my Pa once told me. A war took place and a soldier learned the enemy forces were approaching the King’s castle in the dead of night, to take them by surprise. So he sent a man on horseback to warn the King of the attack. But, you see, the blacksmith had run out of nails to shoe the horse the messenger was riding, so instead of using two, he used one on the right hoof. For the want of a nail on the right hoof, the horse broke its leg, and the man never made it to the castle.”

“Thus, for the want of a nail, the King was slaughtered in his castle and the war was lost,” Leliana said when she caught on. “I see what you mean now.”

“And as I said, Sister, you ignore one part, the whole thing suffers.”

“I understand that better than most. You’re terribly perceptive for a man of your station,” she tells me, rubbing her chin thoughtfully. “And opinionated,” she adds.

“My station? As your healer? Or an elf?”

She snorts. “As a man raised by a farm hand in Ferelden,” she says, perhaps a bit too ominously, almost like a warning, and a chill races down my spine.

“How’d you know that?” I ask, though I probably don’t need an answer.

“People are rather talkative when they think no one is listening,” she says, cryptically, and I frown. She spied on me at some point, didn’t she? Or had one of her spies do it for her. Does she have any here at Haven? Varric said she had a whole network of them.

“Yeah, and when they don’t have anything to hide,” I fire back. Whatever dirt she thinks she’s got on me that she could use to threaten me, ha! Everybody already knows I’m a hedge mage, what could she possibly add to that? But she smirks a little at my words.

“Now I see why Cassandra appointed you,” she says.

I’d _really_ like to meet this Cassandra and give her my two coppers worth.

“I bet,” I chirp.

“Do _try_ to watch that tongue of yours, Healer,” Leliana tells me, turning away and back to her work. “And if you could find it in you to be a bit more cordial to the Sisters, in the future.”

And just like that, I’m dismissed. But I get the feeling this was a warning. And if I fuck up again, I won’t see it coming.

I sigh and walk back to the infirmary, shaking my head.

I’d _really_ like to have that drink with Siva later.


	10. Chapter 10

_**Siva** _

 

Yet again I’m reminded why I despise humans, with maybe a few exceptions. After I’ve delivered missives for Josephine, I spend the remainder of my morning in her office listening as she speaks with the appointed ‘creature researcher’ which now occupies her office. Which is just a formal way of saying she studies demon sludge. I don’t mind, and she seems somewhat agreeable, but I’m rather disturbed that this elvhen by the name of Minaeve would be happy in a Circle.

But she doesn’t mind Luna, and neither does Luna mind her. She now has her own perch, above the bookshelf. Josephine had one of the servants find a branch for her to sit on and a bit of bird seed, which was kind of her. It’s not part of Luna’s usual diet, but it’s much healthier for her than scraps at the tavern snuck from my plate in between bites. She sits there now, adding to conversation with the occasional squawk, to which Josephine replies with, “Quite right, my dear.”

That makes me smile a little, and it’s not the noble woman I actually mind, but it’s the other that comes later that annoys me. One of the soldiers knocks on the office door to announce the arrival of a visitor. When he enters, Josephine stands, and so do I, hovering nearby in case she needs me to fetch her something or take notes or whatever she would want her assistant to do while she entertains a visitor. The man walks in and makes a sweep of the room with his eyes while Josephine greets him.

He’s a noble from Denerim that heard about the explosion at the Conclave and came to pay his respects to the Divine or something. Along the way through Ferelden he’d encountered many demons and other problems on the road, and could see for himself the ongoing threat. At the moment, Josephine’s trying to attract his financial support for the cause, so I stand there with parchment and a quill in my hand while she makes her case to him.

The noble is just so full of himself, and that’s what irritates me. He’s so condescending, like the sun doesn’t rise until he wakes, and it’s aggravating to listen to his nasally voice. But Josephine’s patience is endless for him, and she kindly listens like she actually cares about all his troubles. She must do this a lot, and maybe this is why they picked her for the job. Because she can quietly listen to this shit and have nothing cross to say about it. In fact, she’s so clever with words that she’s able to insult the man without him even realizing she’s doing it.

By the end of it, he offers his support, and that of his family, and Josephine arranges for his stay in the Chantry while he visits Haven on his pilgrimage, or whatever it is. Tomorrow she’ll give him a tour of the village and introduce him to its members and explain their purpose. I’ll be following her around like a shadow of course. But it’s not a bad thing actually. It means that I’ll be given a tour as well and get to know everyone’s names and what they do. I won’t find myself too inherently lost if I know where things are.

As she’s talking to him, she says, “Siva, if you would make a note of that, please,” and I write down whatever she just told him. More points in her favor that she remembered my name.

Most humans never remember. They just see pointed ears and think we’re all the same. But I’m starting to suspect Varric was right about this woman after all.

Lord What’s-His-Face leaves the office, and Josephine says, “Well, that went well, I think.”

Nearby, Minaeve snorts, but has no comment to make on it, too busy jotting down notes on her research.

“We have a moment now, perhaps you’d like to see to Leliana’s birds?” Josephine asks me, and I swallow.

“I can do that, yes.” I agree, and step out of the room. Luna is too busy pecking at her seed to notice that I’m leaving, so I guess I’ll let her be.

Leliana isn’t that hard to find. She’s right outside the Chantry door, across the path, in an open tent, the flap being jostled about in the wind. She stands over a table on which slips of paper are stack high, and reads her messages. Information she’s gathered I guess. I’m still not entirely sure what she does here other than plot against people, but if she’s a spy, then she gathers useful information for the advisers and uses it to their benefit somehow. I’m still hesitant to speak to her, but she notices my approach and doesn’t leave me much of a choice when she waves me over to her tent like she’s been expecting me or something. “You must be Siva.” She says.

I take a deep breath. “Josephine said you have some friends I should like to meet.”

“That I do,” she looks me over, studying my appearance, like it will somehow glean insight into my character. Her icy blue eyes seem judgemental at first, but then just thoughtful for a second before she speaks again. “I asked Josie about you.” She says. It takes a second to realize Josie is a nickname for the noble. They must be friends then. “I saw you have a bird of your own and seem to know quite a bit about them. Mine seem to have taken a bit ill, and I’m afraid if I don’t get them back to good health, important information will be lost, on top of that, two of my best agents.”

“That would be bad, yes.”

“It would be. They’ve served me well for two years now, and I’m quite attached to both. I would hate to lose them.”

Attached? To her agents? Weird.

“I’ll introduce them to you.” She waves me over to the pen nearby where there’s a flock of ravens fluttering inside with a curtain draped over their confines to keep out the weather and the birds quite comfortable. Oh. Oh! She meant the _birds_ are the Inquisition agents. Birds can be Inquisition agents? Okay…? “That one is Siggy, and there’s her brother Baron. She’s one minute older and often reminds him of it.” She chuckles. “They’re the ones that caught ill. I usually have to keep them apart, but I didn’t think it wise today. They both know the other is sick and get fussy when they’re separated.”

There’s something disarming about the way she talks about her ravens like they’re her children, despite the fact that they’re birds and all they do is deliver messages for her. I’m comforted by this fact, and I offer to take a look at them. With practiced ease she reaches into the cage and they hop right to her, trusting of her, like Luna is with me. She takes them out and they perch on her arm without so much as a complaint.

They sense that I’m not a danger to them, so after extending my hand and patiently waiting, they finally hop onto my arm next and crow their greetings to me. They do seem a bit ill. “It’s this cold weather,” I tell Leliana. “Luna is affected much the same. They’re just not used to it. I imagine the other birds are older and stronger and probably more used to inclement weather. But this is their first winter in Haven right?” Leliana nods. “I’d double up their feedings then. Birds that don’t fly south typically stay fairly active in the winter to keep warm and eat twice more often than usual.”

“I thank you much,” she tells me. She smiles at the birds as they titter on my arm, then smiles at me. Well, she doesn’t look like she’s _plotting_. “Is everything alright?” she asks, and I realize I’ve been staring like any minute now she’ll bite my head off. “You don’t get out much do you?” She chuckles and I remember myself. I shake my head a little.

“No, I guess I don’t.”

“More for the ‘four legged friends’ than the two?”

Yes, yes I much prefer animals to most people.

“I’m just not used to so many people.” I say, glancing around.

“Understandable.” She takes Siggy and Baron and puts them back in their pen. It’s not as bad as I was expecting. It’s as cozy as she can make it, and the birds seem quite happy with it too. They’re probably more comfortable than the people really. “I’ll let you get back to the Ambassador.” She tells me, and with a curt nod I wander off, back to my duties elsewhere.

When I get back, Josephine is standing by Luna’s perch, sneaking her a treat, smiling at her and petting her. Yes, I suspect Luna will be fat by the end of it.

The rest of the afternoon is spent helping Josephine sort through the huge stack of letters on her desk and seeing which ones are even worth replying to. She comments on things as we work and I just listen mostly. Until, “Can you believe that Lord Marcus earlier?” I look up at her. “’I have my concerns about the Chantry’s take on this Inquisition of yours’,” she huffs, mimicking the visiting noble. Minaeve snorts nearby. “How could it be possible a dwarf is favored by Andraste, he asks! What would _he_ know about what _any_ of this means!”

“Is that actually possible?” I grow curious enough to ask. “Dwarves aren’t even connected to the Fade, and yet one falls out of it?”

“It is anyone’s guess.” She shrugs. “But when the soldiers found the Herald–Ser Cadash–It was rumored to be that he was lead out of the rift and guided by a woman back from the brink of death. That woman is believed to be Andraste.”

I lift a brow, but say nothing to that. Probably a spirit of some kind, but not necessarily Andraste. I know there is much more to it than that, but I’m not about to give this woman my opinion where it might differ from her religion. I guess all that matters is the magic on the dwarf’s hand can close the Breach and the other rifts plaguing Ferelden. And it’s none of my concern anyway.

“Well, I think that’s all for today.’ She says when we’ve finished the stack. “Have you any research to finish, dear?” she asks Minaeve, who shakes her head.

“I’ve went through everything the Herald left for me, don’t expect to have more until he gets back. But there’s quite a bit here to work with as it is. This will certainly help bolster the soldiers’ resistances, once I have their equipment enchanted. I’ll head down to the blacksmith presently.”

“Thank you, Minaeve,” she says, watching Minaeve leave the room quietly with a slight click of the door handle in depart, then turns to me. “You’re dismissed for the evening, dear. And I thank you kindly for your assistance today.”

“You’re welcome…So, that’s it, is it?”

She nods. “Yes. That will do for now. Should any problems arise unexpectedly this evening I should be able to handle them. Is there anything else you yourself might require? Do you find your quarters suitable?”

“Oh, yes,” I say. Then I stand there awkwardly for a moment. She told me I could go, but she’s looking at me like there’s still something I should say. I shrug a little. “It’s not quite what I’m used to, but it’s not bad,” I elaborate, and she nods and gives me a small smile.

“Many of us in Haven have been adjusting to the drastic change to their environment. I myself was Ambassador to the Empress Celene of Orlais, and this has been a far cry to what I’m used to.”

She worked for the Empress of Orlais? I can’t relate to that at all but I nod a little like I understand. She’s probably used to living inside a big city with stone walls and hundreds if not thousands of people roaming about. I don’t know why I want to talk to this woman, but something about her makes me feel like I can be honest with her. “My home was in the Hinterlands until this mess with the Breach and the demons happened,” I say. She makes a small frown, like she sympathizes with me, or maybe she just knows what’s going on there.

“These are truly dark times that so many people should be forced from their homes like this,” she says.

“I just can’t wait for it to be over with.”

“Mhm, I imagine you are quite eager to return home.”

I sigh and slowly nod. “I’ve never been much of a people person, I guess I’m just too used to handling things on my own, and I like the quiet. But until the demons are gone, I’ll be quite happy to stay here and help make that happen.”

Josephine smiles at me. “We are quite happy to have you here in the meantime then, Siva.”

Begrudgingly I smile, though maybe it’s more of a wince, because I’m tired, and I’m hungry, but she doesn’t seem to be affected by it. “Goodnight, Lady Josephine.”

“Goodnight, dear.”

She turns back to her desk and I wonder if she sleeps there. I’m sure she has a room somewhere, probably right here in the Chantry, but she must work herself tirelessly like the Commander is rumored to do. I call for Luna and she flies to my shoulder, crooning happily as we make our escape. I’ve found a use for the coins Elias gave me, I remember Flissa saying the tavern expects payment for food and drink, and so I feel for them in my pouch, hearing them jingle as I cross the Chantry and head outside. The sun is setting now, and I wonder if Elias is done with his work for the day too.

I blink a few times when I realize where my thoughts went. I don’t normally get attached to anyone, but still I find myself thinking about him. He’s a bit too chatty for my taste, could hardly keep his mouth shut last night and this morning, which made my head spin, but he’s kind. Pretty as well, with that thick wavy black hair, shining like Luna’s oily feathers, and those lips drawn in a smile. Laughing green eyes as bright as the leaves in spring. He’s a hair shorter than me, and wiry in comparison. He sways his hips when he walks, like a female, which is sort of cute but…

We have next to nothing in common other than us both being relatively alone, but there’s something about him I find familial. Maybe it’s just how much he reminds me of my brother that effects me. Not that I was ever attracted to my brother, but he had that same sense of humor as Elias. Torn between wanting to reach out to something familiar because of it, yet turn away from the closeness because it hurts to be reminded of my family.

Luna pecks my shoulder to bring me out of my thoughts and keep me from bumping into someone leaving the tavern as I’m entering. Then she hides in my hair so that Flissa doesn’t catch sight of her. Still don’t know what I’m going to do with Luna when I’m here, but I won’t put her in a cage. I hover near the entrance as I think about it.

“You might have to wait outside, girl.” I murmur. “I don’t want her catching you in here and trying to take you away from me. We don’t need that kind of trouble.” She nips at my ear at the suggestion and I sigh. “I don’t like it either, but what other choice to we have? Besides, you’re not hungry. Lady Josephine fed you better than I’ll ever eat. That woman will make you fat by the end of it.”

With an angry squawk at the offence, Luna flies off my shoulder and perches on a fence post. I shake my head at her and enter the tavern. I know she’ll stay right there and wait for me, but I won’t be long. Just have something to eat, and head straight to my room. All I can think of is food and sleep and a certain raven haired elf, and since I don’t know what to do about the third, I’ll just worry about the first two for now.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elias has a drink, or twenty.

**Elias**

I’m sitting at a table across from Adan when Siva walks in. Just as I suspected, Adan has been pestering me with question after question about the Avvar. I suspect he only half believes I know anything about them, when in truth I know far too much. There are some things I won’t share–I’m honor-bound to keep those secrets–but I happily indulge Adan’s more harmless questions about their society and culture. He gapes at me in shock when I try to explain their marriage custom.

“Kidnapping?” he barks with laughter, as if it were so absurd of a thing, as I spot Siva out of the corner of my eye near the door. I wave him over when he sees me. He stands there still, like he’s hesitant to approach, seems to war with himself for a moment about it before finally huffing and stepping lightly to the table, weaving his way through the crowd of new recruits standing around talking. It’s lively in the tavern tonight. Flissa is kept fairly busy by all the faces.

New recruits, and a couple of non-Inquisition soldiers, an escort that came with a human noble. I know he’s a noble by the way he’s dressed. His clothes are entirely too neat and clean for him to be one of the workers, the farmers or the pilgrims that have been pouring in. His shirt is of a fine silk, with fancy golden trimmings. He’s a tall man, thin with lightly tanned skin and golden hair. Not quite as handsome as the Commander, but not too shabby either. He swooped in about a half-hour ago, with a big smile on his face.

No doubt he’s from the capital and has never set foot outside of Denerim until now. But he’s in fine spirits though. “Drinks for everyone!” he’d announced, and his men then helped Flissa lift a cask and prop it on the counter as people swarmed with empty tankards to fill. I myself was given a free drink when Flissa finally got around to the tables to pour them. She winked at me and Adan before leaving. And now, Siva makes his way to us, then sits down beside me.

“Hello again, young man,” Adan greets, obviously remembering Siva for something. Don’t know what that could be, but somehow Josephine’s job for him led the two to briefly meet one another. Siva nods, then glances around the room. “Elias here was telling me about the customs of Avvar,” Adan remarks. “Don’t rightly believe half of it though.”

I chuckle. “Believe it, friend,” I tell him. “I may be a lot of things, but a liar is not one of them.”

Adan waves me off and takes another drink.

“There’s a lot of people here tonight,” I hear Siva mumble.

“Aye,” I nod. “That Lord Marcus came marching in earlier and practically bought out the place.”

A burst of loud laughter from some of them erupts across the room, where the noble is standing, slipping his arm around Flissa’s waist and she playfully bats his hand away with a smile. Man’s daft if he thinks he’ll get lucky with her. She’s only being so friendly on account of how much gold he has jingling in his pocket. Won’t be so when the coin runs out. I shake my head at the bawdy display and tip back my cup. “I met him earlier,” Siva tells me. “Don’t much like him.”

“How’d you meet him?”

“Came into Josephine’s office earlier. Pledged his support to the Inquisition. Plans on sticking around for a while to get to know the people he’s supporting I guess. Said something about wanting to meet the Herald when he comes back, before he returns to the capital.”

“Well, if he plans to wait that long,” Adan pipes up over his drink, “What with how frivolously he spends his coin, he’ll be broke before he reaches the border and crawling back to Denerim on his hands and knees.”

The three of us spare a glance at the raucous noble, telling a dirty joke, making all the soldiers and Flissa laugh. All but the bard, who simply plays on through the noise, expertly sliding out of some handsy soldier’s reach as she belts out her tune. Another approaches our table as we’re chatting, and I'm quite surprised to find it’s another mage. She’s wearing the Circle robes, and Adan’s eyes light up like Satinalia when he sees the elf. “Is this seat taken?” she asks.

“No, no by all means take it,” Adan offers and she sits down next to him, shyly brushing her short brown hair behind her ears. “You’re the creature researcher, yes?” he asks and she smiles.

“I am, name’s Minaeve. You’re the Potions Master, correct?”

“Adan,” he introduces and sticks out his hand to shake hers. I swear I see her blushing a little.

Siva and I are momentarily forgotten as the two of them slip into conversation about their work across from us, having quite a bit in common since they’re both familiar with Circle life and such. I think it’s rather charming actually, and I’m not offended. Siva looks uncomfortable, and maybe it’s because Adan is very clearly flirting with the elf, but I myself am quite pleased to see that Minaeve’s pointed ears don’t seem to affect Adan ne’er at all.

Since we’re forgotten, I turn to Siva and ask, “So, how was your first day as Josephine’s assistant?”

“Ugh,” is his reply and I chuckle.

“That bad, eh?”

“Well…no, it wasn’t bad, but just…”

“Just?”

Siva slumps in his chair with a sigh. “Just so fucking _boring_!” he groans, hanging his head and I laugh. “I don’t know how humans can spend so many hours sitting around talking about nothing.”

“Bet you learned quite a bit though,” I guess, and his brows raise.

“Oh yes, yes I learned so much about what I never wanted to know about,” he grouses, making me snicker. Such a grump, but really, that’s what I like about him I think.

“Well,” I huff, swinging my arm up and throwing it around his shoulder, startling him in the process, “Have I got a story for you,” I say, then proceed to tell him all about my day.

I start with my bit about almost being clapped in irons when I barked at the Commander like a petulant child, and finish with my story about the two Sisters that almost got me fired. By the end of it, I go on a fifteen minute tirade of how I just don’t think it’s fair that we elves must be treated like second class citizens when we’re no different than anyone else. Throughout the tale, Siva merely listens with a single brow raised, and if I’m speaking an entirely different language.

“Are you sure you’re not Dalish?” he asks me, and it takes me a full two seconds to figure out he’s made a joke, but then I laugh and clap his back.

“Could be,” I say. “That’s why your lot prefer to wander, is it? Supposin’ I’m much the same, really, but I don’t get all your bits about the Creators and all the ancient ones. Never met a Dalish elf that particularly cared for my company either. ‘Cept you. You’re a good one, you are. And I like you.”

“You’re uh…you’re drunk, aren’t you?” Siva asks me and I nod my head.

“But I swear I’m not as think as you drunk I am,” I say, and I think it came out wrong, because Siva rolls his eyes and shakes his head at me.

I don’t quite remember what happens after that, as the rest of the night is pretty much a blur, but I’ll tell you this: I was the life of the party at one point. Nobody told me I couldn’t partake, so you bet your sweet bottom I _partook_. I was almost as drunk as that time I challenged an Avvar warrior to a drinking contest, and _won_. Out drank the man right under the table, but I was stupidly sloshed afterwards. At some point, the music got louder and faster, and dancing started up.

I myself ended up dancing a jig right there on the table where we sat, people clapping and cheering all around, and one of the soldiers had to drag me back down. Flissa had to cut me off. I thought I’d be in trouble then, that I’d be taken to the dungeons to sleep it off. But that nice soldier offered to escort me back to my quarters. I was a bit more sober in the freezing night air, but not enough to keep my head about me. I ended up curling my arm in his and clinging to him for dear life as the world spun.

I had to have looked ridiculous, but Gods bless that man, he didn’t say a word. Just let me go on and on, talking his ear off about this and that as he guided me back to my room. I was confused for a moment before I remembered I’d been given my own room and wouldn’t be bunking with Siva. “Well, here we are, lad,” the soldier tells me and I cling to him still, smiling up at him. He’s rather handsome, but then again, everyone looks handsome when I’m drunk.

“You’re too kind, sir,” I tell him. “What was your name again?”

“Wickam,” he tells me. “Lieutenant Wickam.”

Oh, so _he’s_ the one that was supposed to show me around and tell me where everything was when I was recruited eh? Oh no matter. Who fucking cares anyway right? It all worked out in the end.

“It’s nice to meet you, Wickam,” I say. He chuckles.

“You don’t remember me, do you?” he asks, and I shake my head. “I didn’t think so…When the Temple of Sacred Ashes first erupted and the Breach appeared, I and my regimen were too close to the blast. My commanding officer was killed, and I was attacked by a demon shortly after, and dragged back to Haven. You were there. You were helping the other healers tend the wounded. I was cut too deeply, they didn’t think I would make it, but you refused to give up on me.

You healed me with your magic. You saved my life that day. I’ve been eternally grateful ever since. I…I never pictured a mage ever taking such pity on a Templar, but you did. You showed me mercy when you didn’t have to, and could’ve just let me die to save your own skin. When the healers wanted to condemn you an apostate, I begged the Seeker not to let them harm you. She was wholly in agreement, and I’m glad for that. You’re proof that not all magic in the world is a curse.”

I remember it now, when I hear his tale. Remember him too. That was the first time I’d used magic in front of anyone, when that woman screamed, “Apostate!” And wanted me in chains, but that warrior woman was there to prevent it. He was the soldier I’d healed. I didn’t rightly care if he was a Templar at the time. The wounded poured in one after another after another, and all I saw was faces. It didn’t occur to me who was what at that point, I was just trying to keep people from dying if I could.

“Anyway, I ended up taking the former Lieutenant’s place, as he’d been killed in the explosion. I now serve under Commander Cullen, and you probably won’t remember half of this when you’re sober.” He chuckles at me.

“Well, there’s no need to thank me, I’m just glad I could help you,” I tell him. Then I do the unthinkable and stand on my toes and grip his collar to plant a kiss right on those lips.

It isn’t a very long one, mostly just adamantly pressing my mouth to his, parting with a smack.

I guess I was just so caught up in his story I got sappy for a moment.

He gapes at me in shock when I release him, but I’m too drunk to pay any mind to his reaction, simply smile up at him hazily and say goodnight.

I find my way to my cot and immediately collapse…

\---

…The next morning I wake to Siva shaking my shoulder.

“You’d better get up or you’re going to be late,” he tells me. I open my eyes only to squeeze them shut again. The world is far too bright for my liking, sounds are far too loud, and my head is pounding with a headache. I know I’ll be seeing Adan first thing for a potion for my throbbing skull. I don’t remember a damned thing of the night before, and the last thing I remember is that Lord whatever his name was buying drinks for the whole tavern. Free ale led up to my predicament.

“What did I do last night?” I ask and Siva shrugs.

“Got stupidly drunk and a soldier had to drag you away. I half thought I might find you in the dungeon, but when I didn’t find you there I checked here.”

“I didn’t do anything too terrible did I?”

“Only embarrass yourself in front of everyone in the tavern,” Siva shrugs, as if it’s nothing much.

“Wonderful,” I grumble.

I feel like complete and utter _shit_.

But I go about my day to the best of my ability, considering how Gods-awful I feel. I don’t suspect anything has happened, only that I got roaring drunk, danced a few dances, then found my way back to my quarters. Only…well, that’s just it. I don’t remember how I got back. I assume Siva brought me, but I can swear he was still at the tavern when I left. Who in the bloody Void brought me back then? And why do I have this feeling something bad is about to happen?

As I’m organizing my work space, my back is turned to the entryway. I don’t see Cullen standing there. Only hear, “I just _knew_ you were going to be trouble,” and I jump right out of my skin. Were I in cat form, I’m quite certain I would’ve hissed and climbed the curtain.

“Wonderful,” I chirp sarcastically, when I’ve found my voice. “What did I do now?”

“I didn’t figure you would remember,” the Commander says as he enters the hut, shifting his weight to one side and folding his arms. “My men tell me you were too drunk to stand on your own two feet. A miracle you’re up and about to work today.”

I fidget nervously. “Who did I start a fight with?” I ask, and he lifts a brow.

“Uh, no one, but…” He rubs the back of his neck, just as awkward as me as he summons words. “Typically, mages and Templars don’t have relations with one another,” he begins, and my eyes widen. Oh no. What did I do last night?! “In the Circle it was forbidden. But I understand that things have changed. And uhm,” Again, he fidgets uncomfortably, “What two men consent to is entirely _their_ business, and absolutely _none_ of my own, and to be honest I’d rather not hear the specifics, but could you at least wait until my Lieutenant is _off-duty_ before you attempt to seduce him?”

“Uh…”

Yeah I’ve got nothing.

I tried to seduce Cullen’s Lieutenant?!

A fucking Templar?!

What. The. Fuck.

The night partially comes back to me and I remember that kiss.

Gods only know what that poor man must think of me.

Or the Commander, for that matter.

“Do…do tell him I’m awfully sorry about that,” I say to the Commander as he’s leaving the infirmary, and he turns back to me.

“A pity,” he says, with a small smile. “Lieutenant Wickam didn’t appear to be.”

At that, Cullen makes his way out, and I slump against the table I’ve been leaning against.

Well then.

Lieutenant Wickam, eh?

I should like to find out who he is, and whether or not he’s _truly_ sorry.

Knowing my luck though, he’s ugly as sin and a right prat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You know that nameless Lieutenant Cullen is speaking to in that first cut scene in the training yard? Well, I decided to name that poor, underappreciated Templar Wickam, and give him a smooch. :)


	12. Chapter 12

_**Siva** _

 

I’m surprised how worried I was for Elias that night, but when I really think about it, attachment to him was bound to come eventually if I stuck around long enough. But I was surprised at how protective I’ve become, especially when that Templar showed up. I ignored Elias’s silly behavior up to that point, keeping a close eye on him, but mostly just letting him have his fun. But when he jumped up on the table and started dancing, and Flissa called that Templar over to deal with him, I tensed for a fight. I’ve run across many Templars in my travels, and I trust them even _less_ than regular humans. Elias hasn’t come right out and said it, but I suspect he’s a mage too, and I was prepared to fight this Templar if he harmed one hair on his head.

But all he did was stand there, arms folded, smiling and shaking his head at Elias, who looked down at him and grinned. “Come on down, lad,” the Templar said, and reached to help Elias down from the table. He jumped down and landed on both feet with a huff, blowing his bangs out of his face.

“Hello, handsome,” Elias cooed at him, and the Templar lifted a brow in surprise.

He glanced at me for a second I guess just because I was standing there, watching him with suspicion.

“This one belong to you?” The Templar asked me.

I think maybe he just thought I was jealous of the attention Elias was showing him.

I was torn for a second between saying yes and no. If I said yes, he might leave him with me and let me take him back to my room where he’d be safe. But I gathered long before now that Elias values his independence, and I didn’t think he would want me laying claim to him like that. But if I said no, I couldn’t be sure what this Templar would do to him. But he didn’t appear to have any nefarious intentions at least. The way he looked at Elias was similar to that of a precocious child.

I still have my concerns, but that night I ceased my worry at least.

“He’s a friend.” I said.

“Well, you’re friend here seems to have had just a bit too much to drink, lad. Why don’t I get him back to his quarters.”

“No, I don’t want to go yet.” Elias whined. “I’m having fun.”

“I’m sure you are. But Flissa says it’s about time you call it a night. So why don’t I take you back, alright?”

“Mmm, alright.” Elias grinned. Evidently, liking the idea of going anywhere with the Templar. I figured they’d met before, and Elias knew that he could trust him. I forget that he’s been here longer than me and had more time to get familiar with people.

When I left the tavern that night, Luna angrily squawked at me about leaving her outside, but I resolved to figure out some better solution to that problem, and went to bed.

I found Elias safe in his own room this morning, got him out of bed, and headed to Josephine’s office.

I almost forgot that we would be showing around that wishy washy noble today. But comically he’s just as hungover as Elias, and Josephine makes it a point to talk to him just a little too loudly for his taste, like he’s deaf or there’s a language gap, then profusely apologizes about the noise when he complains, only to turn around and do it again on ‘accident’. I follow like a shadow with a clipboard and quill while she takes him around the village and gives him the tour. She hangs around the smithy far longer than necessary explaining the value of good strong armor and weapons that will save the lives of the soldiers in the field, and he winces every time the hammer strikes to anvil.

But the blacksmith, Herrit, seems nice enough. Most everyone here overlooks me, like I’m not even there, and I would be offended, but I’d rather not have people talking to me excessively. The noise of the training yard is too much for me, but as Josephine is showing Lord Marcus around, I have ample time to study a certain Commander as he and that soldier from last night train recruits. The soldier is telling him something, and he gets a look of shock on his face. I’m curious about what they’re saying, but not curious enough to step closer to listen.

And without either of them noticing me, it’s easier to admire Cullen from afar. I can almost picture what he might look like without that armor, assuming his back and torso are covered in scars matching the one on his lip. Planes of rippling muscle that flex with every movement, and I feel myself blush at the thought. Don’t get me wrong, Elias is attractive too, but something about Cullen makes me lose my breath. It could be why I’m hesitant to make things between us more than friendship. Because I start to expect that my ideal partner is more someone like Cullen. It could be why I’ve hesitated to reach out to anyone in the past, because I knew that in the end, they just wouldn’t be what I wanted.

Not that I have any plans to pursue a relationship with the Commander, because other than looks, he’s just not my type. I don’t think he would be interested in the way I like to live. I think he would be much happier on a farm somewhere, if he’s not fighting. He just doesn’t strike me as the type to like to live deep in the woods with no contact with other people of any kind.

But if I ever found someone that looked like Cullen, but was maybe more like Elias in that they don’t mind being surrounded by trees and living off the land, and if they don’t mind me either, I would never let that person go.

The walk around Haven is no more interesting than anything else about this place, but it gets me out of the confines of Josephine’s office and into the fresh air. Lord Marcus gets hungry at one point, and opts to continue the tour sometime later in favor of a midday meal at the tavern, so Josephine and I head back up to the stifling Chantry. When we’re alone, I get the chance to ask her about some things. I remember Elias told me last night that there’s some issues at Haven with how the working class are treated, especially the elves. Josephine seems to really care about people, even if she’s a fancy noble from a huge city full of other fancy nobles, so I ask her about it.

She seems genuinely concerned when I tell her about what happened to Elias yesterday. No one called this to her attention before, and she promised to look into it.

I hope and pray that me getting involved won’t make things worse somehow. I think the only reason Leliana likes me is because I helped her look after her ravens, and I’m not sure how she would feel if she found out that I went to Josephine with Elias’s complaints about the Chantry Sisters.

The rest of the day is spent preparing for the ‘war meeting’ later, where Josephine meets with Leliana and Cullen to discuss Inquisition business. We organize all the letters she received in order of relevance. First, by whether or not the sender is a Comte, a Duke, or a King. Then by how time-sensitive something is. Whether or not it can be dealt with in a few days, or needs to be addressed immediately, and I’m so done with this job by the end of it. My head hurts, and my eyes are tired. But even though it’s not that late, Josephine dismisses me to get some rest when she sees my eyelids droop. I’m grateful for that.

I think Josephine and Elias are really the only thing keeping me here, but maybe I’m doing some good.

Maybe even if it’s small, still, I’m making some bit of difference, and I think I can be satisfied with that.

My second day complete, I almost look forward the third. But that next morning, there’s clanging of bells at the gate to announce someone’s arrival. Chantry sisters or mothers with some mages, riding into the village on carts with wounded from the Hinterlands. The crowded village just got even more crowded, and I have a feeling this day will be no easier than the last.

Why did I sign up for this again?

Oh wait. That’s right. I didn’t.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Elias experiences his first loss of a patient

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This gets a little sad and I'm sorry, but there are just some things even I can't make light of.

**Elias**

When Lieutenant Wickam appears at my door that morning, I think for a moment we’re about to have _that_ conversation, but the expression he sports is far too serious for such an occasion. I heard the bells, and I’m aware of arrivals in Haven, confirmed when he says, “A party just arrived from the Hinterlands, with wounded. If you’ll come with me right away.” He barely has a chance to finish his sentence when I’m rushing out the door past him and I hear him follow closely.

I make my way down the narrow path, soft leather boots crunching the snow, and I hear foot fall beside me, slightly heavier, and the jingling sound of a set of Templar armor in my ear. “Has the Herald returned?” I ask curiously.

“Not as of yet,” Wickam answers, breathlessly, as he struggles to keep up with my stride. “The situation in the Hinterlands is still largely tentative, and I’m afraid we won’t see him for quite some time. But Mother Giselle and her followers have arrived today with some of our agents from the Crossroads.” I barely remember the Crossroads. Been too many years now, but when I was a boy, I remember the area was as quiet as a mouse.

Now, it’s been a war zone, then a cluster of bodies forced from their homes.

I’ve heard the whispers that Mother Giselle, a Chantry woman from Orlais, has been right in the middle of it assisting the locals in whatever way she can. I suspect I’m about to be replaced as chief healer of Haven and one of Mother Giselle’s mage healers will now take my place. Wickam is kind enough to shove open the large front gate for the both of us, then leads me over to the wagon full of people as they’re climbing out of it. Soldiers wait patiently to assist.

There she is, the woman I’ve heard tell of, wearing her red and white robes. “Ah, there you are,” I hear Cullen say, as he stands next to the wagon. “Revered Mother, this is Elias, Haven’s resident healer. He’ll get your people settled here in Haven.”

“Thank you, Commander.”

As Cullen is busy talking to the woman I climb into the back of the wagon where injured soldiers lay, some of them wrapped in bandages, one of them with his arm in a sling, another with his leg braced with whatever was available at the time. Probably ripped the boards right off a cabin and used them to fashion his broken leg. I see who can be moved immediately, and who would probably worsen if not handled carefully. I doubt the wagon ride was too comforting for them.

“I’ll show you to the infirmary,” I tell Giselle’s people, which there are few of. Just a man and a woman in Circle robes, and I assume both are the mage healers. Everyone else are pilgrims or refugees I suppose. They both silently nod, and I request two soldiers help me lift the gurney holding one man who’s unconscious. Provided they live, most of them will be turning right back around and heading back into the fight, but some of them might never fight again.

All the while, Wickam abandons his post as trainer and remains on hand to assist as we get the wounded to the infirmary. Gods bless that man, because he’s very useful, and obviously has some experience with healers in the field from when he fought in the Mage-Templar war, because he knows everything I speak of and exactly what I need when I ask of it. The two Circle mages help me get the men settled as comfortably as possible in available cots.

I start with the unconscious man first, as his is the most detrimental of wounds, directing the others to the supplies so they can patch the others up in the meantime. I may not have much, but it’s evident I have more available here than what they had in the field, and their chief complaint was not having the means of cleansing the affected area to keep down infection. I can’t imagine what it must be like out there, and I’m not sure I want the gruesome details.

The man before is young, maybe twenty at best, with feathery light blonde hair and deathly pale. He’s clearly lost enough blood already. He’s shirtless, his torso is bandaged, and it looks as if he’s been stitched up. But I see fresh blood staining the bandages and I panic. His wound must’ve reopened somewhere along the way to Haven, but they had no way to staunch the bleeding. Or they simply hadn’t noticed. “Quick, get me those sheers!” I say, to whoever is hovering nearby.

A healer finds them on the table and hands them over so that I can cut away the bandages and inspect the wound. Then they wait with more. But I’m not sure they’ll do any good. Or if there’s anything I can do. Judging by the amount of bruising he’s bleeding internally. I rise to stand over him, raise my arms and summon my mana. No amount of mundane healing will help, and if anything will save him it’s magic. Hope these people don’t to stop what I’m about to do.

I cast a spell, and light fills the room, as I attempt to bridge a connection, searching for his spirit. His pulse is weak, he’s lost so much blood, and I’m not sure if calling upon the spirits to guide his back from the Fade will do any good. Not if the body is too weak to house the spirit. I delve deeper, concentrating all my magic on the wound inside to stitch it back together and keep him from bleeding out. Like pulling hard on the reins of a mule I force the tissue together, sweat beading on my brow.

But still his heart threatens to give out and I reach for the spirits on the other side, hoping to breathe life in to him. “He’s too weak,” I say between breaths. “I don’t know if I can pull him back.”

The room is silent with intensity as I make the attempt.

His heart stops beating entirely, and nothing I do will bring it back to life.

“No, no no!” I exclaim, pooling all the magic I have left in me to bridge the gap and reach for him. But even then I feel his spirit fading away. “Gods-damn it all,” I curse.

He exhales his last breath, then nothing. I feel no presence at all. Only a lifeless form on the cot, and I slump down on it, drained completely of any and all energy.

Tears start to fall.

I’ve seen people die before. I’ve felt that loss. But it was never anyone in my care, and I don’t know what to do. I feel numb for a moment as I sit there, trying to gather my wits and face the reality of the situation. That this man is dead. Doesn’t matter who he was or what he did, if he had ever been a Templar, or if he was just another farmer on the outskirts of Redcliffe. He was somebody to someone out there. “Did…did he fave any family?” I ask.

“In Markham,” one of the injured soldiers pipes up from the cot on the other side of the room. “I’ll see that his brother is notified of the loss.”

I nod a little a rise to stand as one of the other healers approaches, kneeling by the cot. He starts saying the Chant for the dead, and I need to leave. I need air, because I suddenly feel like I can’t breathe and I feel someone helping me up, fingers wrapping around the crook of my arm. Lieutenant Wickam leads me out of the infirmary and into the morning sunlight over half the valley. The other half encased in darkness still, as the Breach is ever in the sky.

I slump against the wall outside the hut and let the others do their work.

I keep wondering what I did wrong. I’d seen this sort of thing before, knew how it was done, had communed with the spirits of the Fade countless times and yet…despite all that he’d died. Right there in front of me. And not only did he die, but I felt him dying. Our spirits were connected still when he slipped away from me. I know it’s a phantom effect of the spell, but I honestly feel like part of me went with him when he died. I sniff when my nose becomes stuffed as I cry.

“Never lost any one before, have you, Healer?” Wickam asks me, and I look up. I realize he’s been standing there, keeping an eye on me, and he looks concerned. I wasn’t expecting that. I study him for a moment. He is rather handsome I realize. Not quite so much as the Commander, but there’s something about him that comforts me, even though he might’ve once been my jailer had I not ran from home and been sent to the Circles instead.

He has a kind, quiet nature to him. Maybe gentle even, and certainly patient. It’s no wonder I wanted to kiss him when I was three sheets to the wind. But thinking about that makes me look away, ashamed and embarrassed about it still. At least he doesn’t hold a grudge. I slowly shake my head at what he asked me and say, “No. This would be the first one.” I wipe my face with my shirtsleeve, feeling awfully self conscious about having cried in front of a man.

Makes me feel weak, and vulnerable, and I really don’t like that feeling.

Who would honestly, bursting into tears in front of another man.

“There isn’t a healer in Thedas that could’ve done better,” Wickam tells me. “You shouldn’t put that on yourself.”

I know he’s trying to console me right now, but for some reason it just makes me feel worse. I don’t know, maybe it’s just because I’m crying about it. I want to believe what he says is true, that there’s nothing I could’ve done. But maybe there was, maybe there wasn’t, but either way he’s still gone and I can’t bring him back. A fresh wave of emotion hits me and I squeeze my eyes shut. I feel his hand on my shoulder, steadying me when I sway.

Before I realize it, the words just come tumbling out.

All of my feelings. For all I know, I may have blurted it out that night too, when I was drunk, but I don’t rightly remember. Wickam just patiently listens all the while.

“I wasn’t even supposed to be here,” I blurt out, tears streaming down my face. Before I’m fully aware of what’s happening, I feel his arms wrap around me and his hand patting my back. “I was just on my way through, headed north when it happened. I never meant to get mixed up in all this. I’m just a drifter. Not a healer. I’m not cut out for this! I should’ve just left when I had the chance. Or maybe I never should’ve come. Maybe I should’ve just ran the other way and never looked back.”

“I get this feeling you’re not the type to just give up on something like that,” I hear him say.

No, no I don’t really think I am either.

Don’t get me wrong, I’d love to not give a shit, but…

“Quite often I feel the same, you know,” he says. “Sometimes I question why I’m even here. What is even the point of it all. I’ve lost many friends in the war. And those men I wake up for morning drills and teach to use a sword, many of them are going to die. No matter how hard I work to prepare them for the fight. Sometimes I wonder if anything I do will make a difference. But in the end what makes it worth the trouble is knowing there are good people out there worth defending.”

I sniff again and pull away to glance up at him.

“You may not have been able to save that man, Elias, but I wouldn’t be standing here if not for you. Whether or not you intended to be here, I’m mighty glad Lady Cassandra took my suggestion to keep you on as Haven’s healer. You’re helping a lot of people, you know. And that has to count for something.”

Again, I sniff.

Well, fuck. He’s the reason I was appointed the healer. Oh and it all makes sense now. Damn it all, now I feel like I owe it to him to stay, to push through this. He believes in me. This stupid Templar that almost got himself killed, that I had to save, that turned around and got me set up as Haven’s healer. Well, fuck, he did recruit me, technically. I wipe my eye. “You know, when you recruit someone,” I sniff, “You’re supposed to show them around Haven so they don’t get lost and you forgot.”

“Did I?” he asks, and I nod.

“Commander Cullen said his Lieutenant was supposed to have informed me of everything an’ directed me to the supply tent, issued my personal effects and shown me to my quarters.”

He sighs, shaking his head at my words, a hint of a smile at the corner of his lip. “My mistake. How about I do that now then. Let’s go for a walk and I’ll give you the tour.”

I snort at that, suddenly not so gloomy when he says that. “I already know where most everything is now.”

“Then we’ll just talk. How’s that sound? Let’s just get you away from the infirmary for a bit. You look like you could use a break from it all.”

“But…won’t you get in trouble?” I ask, because I don’t have the heart to just tell him no when he’s being so nice. “Won’t the Commander wonder where you are? What about your duties?”

“I’ve been asked to assist the Healer, and that’s exactly what I’m doing. Don’t see where I’m neglecting my duties in that.”

He smiles at me, and I know it doesn’t mean anything, but still I can’t help but turn all shades of red at that smile.

He’s right. I need a break. The infirmary will still be there when I get back. And I have a feeling this is only the start of what will come pouring in from the Hinterlands in days to come.


	14. Chapter 14

_**Siva** _

 

In the weeks to follow, things have become rather hectic around Haven. More and more people pour in from the Hinterlands every day. Some of them are farmers or merchants, some of them are looking to join the ranks as soldiers, and some are Circle mages or Templars who abandoned the fight in favor of a more peaceful resolution, the Inquisition basically being their only option for that. There’s been in fighting on occasion, and one day Commander Cullen even had to step in and break up an argument between the two factions, as both were still quite convinced the other were responsible for the murder of the Divine.

But thank the Creators the dwarven Herald came back just in time to break up that fight. The Hinterlands have been secured and it is now safe for travelers and supply wagons to pass through. The Inquisition’s task there has now switched from restoring order to rebuilding the farmhouses to relocate the refugees and simply maintaining that order in the area. Can’t say I’m too terribly unhappy with it, but it disappoints me that yet more of the forest will be cut down to make lumber to house the people. I worry for the grove I made my home there.

That forest is my home, and its inhabitants my only semblance of family. If anything happens to it, I can’t guarantee I’ll be civil.

With all the people pouring in from Ferelden, Elias and I have been kept pretty busy. I’ve been helping Josephine organize everything with all the new visitors, assigning workers to various positions needing filled, and listening attentively and taking notes during all her different meetings with people. Elias has had his hands full with all the people seeking a healer. There’s not been much opportunity to talk to one another, other than our nightly meetings at the tavern for supper and maybe a few drinks.

The rest of his free time is occupied by a certain Templar I questioned the motives of at first. I don’t really think Elias has caught on to Lieutenant Wickam’s feelings for him yet though. He complains of how he’s always popping in over at the infirmary to ask him if he needs anything, or if he has a moment to talk, and while he enjoys getting to know the man because he likes meeting new people and making friends much more than I do, he whines about how Wickam constantly fusses over him like he’s a child. “I don’t understand why he treats me like I’m so helpless.” He told me one night at the tavern.

For someone who’s so witty, he’s kind of dumb really. He doesn’t see what I see. He doesn’t really get that Wickam just cares about him. Something about a kiss they shared when they were drunk, and I can’t remember the rest of the story, but Elias is convinced Wickam doesn’t even like him in that way. There are times when it’s just so aggravating to watch the way Elias tortures the Templar that I’m tempted to just clunk their heads together and say “Get on with it, you idiots!”

But things haven’t been entirely unpleasant. Because of my continued worry over Luna being taken despite Lady Josephine’s assurances otherwise, she gave me a slip of signed and sealed parchment to wave saying Luna is allowed to be with me wherever I go, at all times. She listed her as a ‘service animal’ though I’m not sure what services Josephine thinks she provides other than companionship. Flissa took one look at the paper though and said “Well, alright then.” Oh and Luna is officially listed as an Inquisition agent too. Looks like both myself and Luna have joined an army whether we liked it or not.

But Varric is back, so whenever Elias and I meet at the tavern, he’s usually there, and joins us at our table for drinks and a game of cards. Sometimes the dwarven Herald too when he’s not busy in the Chantry talking with the advisers and taking care of Herald business. He’s not so bad like I thought he’d be. Like Elias and Varric he’s an agreeable sort, and I can tolerate him just about as much as I can the other two. When he changes out of his armor, throws on a pair of regular dwarf sized clothes with a leather carta coat and gloves, and enters the tavern, no one recognizes him, and pays him no more attention than they would any other dwarf. Apparently all dwarves look the same to humans too.

But he acts normal. I don’t know what I was expecting him to be like, other than Josephine telling me he’s polite and all, but I wasn’t expecting him to basically be another Varric. He smokes and drinks, complains about all the bullshit he has to put up with on a day to day basis and is wicked at cards. Elias thinks he might’ve been Carta. I’m not sure, because I’ve not met a dwarf that claimed to be a member of the organization to point them out in a crowd. I wouldn’t think a shifty Lyrium dealer would make it _obvious_ they’re a shifty Lyrium dealer. And for all I know, Cadash could be just another miner, or laborer or something.

He doesn’t talk much about himself, other than mentioning in passing he’s from the double walled city of Ostwick in the Free Marches. I’ve been near that area, and it’s just as suffocating as any other place. He said he was used to flat ground, not trudging up mountains and sleeping in tents. Absolutely hates traveling around Ferelden closing rifts, but said “Somebody has to do it.” He thinks the magic on his hand might’ve been some freak accident, some sort of spell gone horribly wrong, and doesn’t believe for a second he was rescued by the Maker’s bride and brought back from the dead. He could be right. I’ve gotten a glimpse at the green glow beneath his glove and it doesn’t look like a holy mark from Beyond to me.

I kind of like him. A little. At least I don’t hate him completely, and I’d much rather it be Cadash that’s the Inquisition’s hero and savior to the people than some high and mighty noble that sticks his nose up at everyone else and thinks that he’s so special because he was chosen by some missing God.

He’s not bad looking for a dwarf, but he’s not the Commander, and he’s covered head to toe in coarse wiry brown hair and has the thickest beard I’ve ever laid eyes on.

But at least he has hair on his head.

And speaking of a lack of hair, the bald one named Solas is back too. Honestly I think I would like him better than some, but we haven’t spoken. He keeps to himself for the most part and stays away from bigger crowds, which is one of the things I could appreciate about him. He likes to hang around the cluster of cabins up by the Chantry where Elias works, and sometimes engages him in conversation. Elias tells me he’s not bad, but it’s just awkward to talk to him about magic.

He agrees wholeheartedly with his opinion of spirits, and finds it pleasant to hear his stories of the various places he’s visited in the Fade, but he’s a little too condescending for Elias’s taste. He speaks as if no one could possibly know more about magic than he does, and if you disagree with his opinion on something, he looks at you like you’re an idiot. He’s not Dalish, but he has nothing personal against the People, just doesn’t like living among them. Apparently some of his methods in spell casting would frighten us. Or so he’s convinced.

He says the only reason he’s not in chains is because Seeker Cassandra values his knowledge of the Fade and its inhabitants, as well as the Herald’s magical mark, same as she trusts Elias as the Healer. I don’t like that he knows so much about the mark and how it works. He swears he saw such types of magic in the Fade, but that’s just a little too suspicious for my taste. I suppose the only thing that matters is that he’s trying to help. If he weren’t doing that, I might think he was somehow connected to it. But if he meant for the Breach to happen, then he wouldn’t bother lifting a finger.

All in all, things are going well enough, considering I’m in the middle of an Inquisition in a frozen wasteland in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of smelly humans.

Every day I miss home though. Some nights, it’s all I can think about. My comfy little patch of woods, surrounded by endless green, the whispers of the wind caressing the branches around me. I did just fine without people or things of any kind, and even though I have Luna to keep me company, this cabin of mine is nowhere near the same. I never expected to end up here, never would’ve pictured I would, but still I’m here. It’s almost getting to where I feel like I _can’t_ leave, because I wonder what will happen without me.

How will Josephine get her endless stack of messages delivered? I wouldn’t say I especially like her still, but I admit she’s growing on me. Every day she finds some way or other to get on mine and Luna’s good side, and I fear she’s become rather dependent on me as her ‘secretary’, as she calls me now. That’s my official title. Secretary to Ambassador Montilyet of the Inquisition. I’m sure eventually she could find a replacement, but is that allowed? I mean, can I leave if I decide I don’t want to work for her anymore? Will the Inquisition let me, or is this like a Grey Warden thing where once you sign on you’re in it for life? I don’t know if that’s how it works or not.

But one night as I lay in my cabin, encased in my cozy little nook of the Fade, I receive a visitor. I’ve had many before, as the Breach has had a certain effect on spirits, and also a certain effect on mages, but this one is different. I know this one. This one came pretty far just to see me, but warns me of the danger in the Hinterlands. Something threatens my home, and I need to get back there. I don’t know if I can, I tell the spirit of my obligations here, but my friend is persistent, and insists that I come home. I know better than to think it’s a demon tricking me, I’ve had more than enough experience with that, so I’m extremely worried the next morning when I wake up.

I know it might seem silly to the people here, but that forest isn’t just my home, it’s my _family_. The trees, the animals, everything within it, is important to me. As important to me as the spirits Solas befriended, or the people in the waking world that so many here are fond of. And now it’s not just my homesickness occupying my thoughts, but an actual _need_ to go home. I hope Elias can forgive me, and maybe one day I’ll see him again, but it has to be done. Maybe one day I’ll figure out a way to visit Elias in the Fade. Never learned how to do it, but I know it’s possible.

He’s a mage, and because of that it will be easier to find him if I search. But Josephine on the other hand, I don’t know if I’ll ever see her again. Even Varric. But I have to protect my home. I’ve been gone long enough. They’ll just have to understand. I’m nervous, and worried Josephine won’t, when I appear in her office that morning to break the bad news. I half suspect I won’t have any choice about staying and that they’ll try to hold me captive here, but I’m prepared to make my escape if it comes to that.

“Lady Josephine, may I speak with you?” I ask.

She looks up from where she’s been sitting at her desk writing letters and blinks in surprise. She can see that I’m back to wearing my old leathers, and I have my pack slung over my shoulders. I left everything the Inquisition gave me back at the cabin. All except for something that I think was a gift. That bottle of wine that came with those sweets when I first arrived. The sweets are gone. Elias and I demolished them. But the wine I never got around to drinking. I plan to give it to him. Between the two of us, he’s the more indulgent, and I won’t need any of that stuff where I’m going.

“I…take it you mean to give me your notice then.” She says.

“I don’t really know how to go about explaining myself, but…something’s happened, and I need to go home.”

“Oh dear. Is everything alright, Siva?”

 _It will be, once I go home_ , I think.

I sigh a little. “The place where I made my home, it… _really_ means a lot to me, and what with everything that’s happened in the Hinterlands, I need to go back to check to be sure everything is still safe there.”

That’s the best way I can explain it without frightening the woman with the details of it all, the parts where it involves magic the Chantry doesn’t approve of and such. I wait for her to think it over.

She smiles a little at me, slowly rising from the desk.

“Siva, I know how much you miss home. If you’ve tired of your position here, and you’d simply like to return, you need only say the word. I would understand.”

“Really?” I ask. I can hardly believe it would be that easy and I study her face to find a hint of deception, like maybe it’s part of the Game everyone plays around here.

“Of course.” She chuckles. “Minaeve and I will miss your company, and I will especially miss our little agent.” She shoots a look at Luna who puffs up her chest like she’s quite proud of her importance here. “But with the Hinterlands having been restored by the Herald, I don’t imagine I will find it difficult to find a replacement, should I need one. There are many here still in need of suitable employment, and I’m sure that one of them would be willing to deliver messages for me.”

I’m certain of that too. After all, people do say this is a good post to be assigned, and I completely understand why they like it now. No heavy lifting, and a nice pretty noble to make them feel welcome.

“I don’t want to cause trouble or be an inconvenience…”

She laughs, shaking her head at me. Then she places a hand on my shoulder. “Siva.”

“Yes?”

“Go.”

Behind me I hear Minaeve snort at my reluctance. I admit I’m surprised by it too. All this time I spent wishing I was home, and now I’m not certain of leaving. But these people had that effect on me. I realize that now. I realize that maybe a small part of me will miss this place, and working for Josephine. I mean, it hasn’t been all bad.

Even the _spymaster_ didn’t seem quite so bad once I got to know her. 

“if there is anything you need, do not hesitate to reach out to us,” Josephine instructs. “We would consider you an ally to the Inquisition. And I myself would consider you a friend. I would hope that you feel the same, yes?”

When I really think about it, I guess so. I don’t think I would say I particularly enjoy all parts of the way humans live here, nor do I care for all the fancy parts of noble living Josephine enjoys, but I think yes I’m a bit fond of her.

“I do.” I answer with an affirmative nod, and she smiles at me again.

This time I don’t struggle to return it.

“My word.” she says. “So you _do_ know how to smile.”

I blush a little at that and nod my head. We say our goodbyes and I head outside, huge smile on my face because _I’m going home_. But the smile fades when I see Elias across the path, standing outside the infirmary, taking a break from his work to enjoy the sunlight, and the fresher air. My heart thumps wildly then, because saying goodbye to Haven might mean saying goodbye to Elias. I know better than to think he’d want to go with me. He’s lived on his own for years, away from society, just like me, but I always suspected it was more out of necessity than actual want.

And he really likes helping people. Despite all his complaints at the tavern, he likes his job as Haven’s healer. I won’t force him to go just so I’m not alone, but…I’ll miss him. More than I thought I would.

He smiles a little sadly when he sees me and meets me in the middle of the tiny square between the huts. “You’re leaving, I presume,” he says. He can see for himself I’m packed and ready to go. I raise a brow at how well he seems to be taking it. “Kind saw it coming.” He shrugs. “Man like you ain’t cut out for this sort of living. It’s a pity though. We were having such fun being miserable together, eh?”

I snort at that. “So much fun.” I add sarcastically, and he laughs.

“I’m going to miss you.”

Honestly, I will too. “Same here.”

Elias fiddles with his shirtsleeve. ‘I mean, who am I going to complain to when Varric is off with the Herald doing hero things?”

I smirk at that. “I’m sure you’ll find someone. There’s a certain Lieutenant if I recall. He’s around here somewhere.” I look around as if I don’t know exactly where he is, at his post in the training yard, next to the Commander, barking instructions at the newest recruits as he puts them through their paces. I’d never admit it, but I kind of like Wickam. “And I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to fill your time.” I wink. Elias blushes.

“You know it’s not like that between us.” He mumbles.

“You sure about that? Because from where _I’m_ standing…”

Elias sighs and rolls his eyes at me like _I’m_ the one being ridiculous. “Well, this is it then, huh?”

“Sadly, yes. Oh, but I have something for you though.” I reach in my pack and pull out the bottle of wine. “Never got around to drinking this and…I thought you’d like it. You’re more for that sort of thing than I am.” Elias smiles as he accepts the gift.

“How about we share it?” He asks. “You know, have a little send off for you. Plus you know you can’t leave without telling Varric goodbye. Oh and have one last side-long look at Cullen.”

“Creators, if I look at him one last time, I’ll change my mind about leaving.”

“A drink then?” I still don’t get Elias’s ritual of us drinking together. I mean, I get why people drink, but I really don’t get the significance of us doing it companionably. “Come on, it’s a tradition at this point. Let’s go have a sit down in the tavern and have one last drink where we first met, eh? It’ll be special that way.”

I roll my eyes, but nevertheless I follow him to the tavern and sit down at the table while he pops the cork and pours us both a drink. He holds up his.

“Well, cheers then,” he says. I smile.

“Cheers, my friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well guys, this is it for Siva. We decided to retire the character in favor of writing others, and it was either this, or kill him off. So we went for pleasant farewells. So sorry if you liked Siva and wanted more, but if you like Elias, don't worry, he's still in the mix. Smut was promised, and a certain Lieutenant keeps catching his eye. Plus there will be more OCs later in this series. 
> 
> Sincerely,
> 
> SB & Kosho


	15. Chapter 15

**Elias**

Things are different with Siva gone. There’s now an empty chair at our little table in the corner of the tavern where he used to sit. Well, two empty chairs actually. Since Varric left with the Herald to travel to Val Royeaux, so that they might deal with the remaining clerics that have been speaking out against the Inquisition. So here I am, by myself in the corner tonight, nursing my ale. But it hasn’t been all that terrible, I just don’t have my grumpy elven friend to tell all about my day.

But things are fine otherwise. The two mage healers that arrived at Haven are fairly agreeable people. The man’s name is Sevan, and the woman is Georgiana. They’re both exceptional healers and fairly easy to work with, when they’re not questioning my techniques. But get this interesting twist to the plot: I’m still the head healer, apparently. I had been thinking when they arrived that they would take over, and I would simply assist them as needed, but I was mistaken.

I had been confused at first, not really understanding why they just kept standing there and staring at me, waiting for me to say or do something, so I’d went to the Chantry to speak to the Mother that brought them. Giselle thought it all rather amusing. “Why aren’t they doing anything?” I’d asked. “They just stand there and stare at me. Asking me if I need things. Is there something wrong with them, Mother?” Giselle chuckled at me, shaking her head.

“You have never had apprentices before, have you, Messere Elias?” she asked, and I quirked a brow at that bit of information. “They will follow your direction, of course. They have only their experience in the Circles, so I imagine they will have much to learn from you.”

“Uh…” I scratched my head when she said that, and just kind of gawked at her for a moment, before coming to my senses. “Wait, you mean they’re not here to replace me?”

“No, my dear. What gave you such an idea?”

“Well, the Commander said the healers would relieve me.”

“He meant that they would assist you. You have been undertaking the task single-handedly, yes?” I nod a little. “You need not be burdened with such duties on your own.”

“Oh…Oh! I get it. But…They really want an apostate as their head healer?”

“With no Circles to protect them, all mages are apostate, regrettably.”

“But I’m an elf.”

Mother Giselle eyed me curiously when I said that. “And do you feel you should not be allowed the position because of this?”

“Well, no,” I say. “I just wasn’t expecting to.”

“I see.” She nodded a little. “I too find it troublesome that the world should judge a person based on their appearance, and not by their convictions. Only in the Circle have I seen an elf rise to the position they were deserved, until the Inquisition. The Grand Enchanter herself was in fact elven. And here, I see many peoples of many walks of life working together to help others. This is what Most Holy would’ve wanted. Not for the world to be divided.”

I walked away from that conversation finally finding a Chantry person I some what liked, and went back to my work. But anyway, things aren’t too bad. Just pretty dull outside of work, and tonight, I find myself sitting alone in my corner of The Singing Maiden, bored out of my mind, staring into my cup. It’s not until Flissa sweeps by my table, saying, “Last call, dearie,” that I look up and notice the sparsity of people tonight. Tavern is closing. Only a handful left.

I drain my cup, drop some coin on the table, and make my way out. At this current moment, I have no idea that things are about to take a turn for the worst, and I’m not expecting trouble, but at this point, I think it just searches me out, whether I want it or not. I mean, it isn’t as if I intentionally seek it out. But it finds me, and tonight it’s in the form of three night watchmen waiting around the corner as I make my way up the path. “Well well, what do we have here?” one of them says.

I freeze where I’m standing, the hair raising on the back of my neck, when they corner me by one of the cabins. I didn’t expect to have problems like this, but despite Mother Giselle’s words to me before, not everyone here at Haven joined the Inquisition to be upstanding citizens apparently. Oh I’m sure they’re mighty fine chaps otherwise, but when catching a lone elf wandering the streets in the dead of night? Fat chance. “If you’ll kindly excuse me, gentlemen,” I say, and try to brush past them.

But the one that spoke to me pushes me and pins me against the wall behind me. “Where do you think you’re going, little rabbit?” he asks, and my eyes narrow. I memorize that face of his–I want to remember it when I take this problem to one of my betters–and kick him as hard as I can in the gap between his armor plates, right in the groin. He doubles over in pain and I use the opportunity to slip from his grasp, diving between the legs of the other two to get away, then take off running.

I dart behind one of the cabins and quickly shift, a small cloud of purple smoke left in my wake, soon dissipating as I drop to all fours, claws scraping frozen dirt as I scramble to get away. It’s been too long since I’ve taken this form and I almost forgot how it feels to be so small. Much smaller than I already am to begin with. I hear them following and hide behind a barrel, cat ears picking up the sound of their heavy foot fall, sensitive nose sniffing the air and honing in on their scent.

In this form, colors are muted, but as my pupils dilate everything is focused in such sharpened detail it’s like daytime, rather than dead of night. “Where’d he go?” one of them asks.

“He was just here!” another hisses. My tail bumps against something and makes a small sound.

“Aha! Found you!” the third exclaims, but curses when he sees only a small black cat darting between his legs, rather than an elf.

“Blast! It’s only a cat. Where could he have gone?”

Ha! The fools! I’m right here, but they don’t suspect a thing, so I make my escape. They’ll be busy searching a while, which will give me some time to figure out what to do. I know I can’t go straight to my cabin. Everyone in Haven knows the Healer’s quarters are right next to the infirmary, and that’s the first place they’ll look for me. The tavern is closed, and even if it weren’t and I managed to sneak in somehow, Flissa would only chase me right back out with a broom.

All a cat is good for in a place like this is mice, and I doubt I’ll get such sympathy. I doubt she’d look and say, “Awe, what a precious little kitty! You’ll make a fine mouser.” Nope. Knowing my luck, she’d think I was rummaging through the garbage like some mangy alley cat. Matter of fact, nearly every person here would think I’m just some scrounger looking for a meal. If Siva were still here I’d just go speak to him. He’d be able to help. Luna would be in a right fit though.

But he’s gone, so I’m on my own. Though there is still one person here I might be able to trust. Who might even be able to do something about those soldiers too. No doubt Wickam could go straight to the Commander, and Cullen would listen to his lieutenant. I wouldn’t simply have to take my chances. I don’t rightly believe what Siva said about Wickam being interested in me, but he’s been a good friend these last few weeks. He stops by to chat with me nearly every day.

My only trouble will be getting to the other side of the main gate to the tents by the training grounds where Wickam sleeps. You know, lacking opposable thumbs and all. I have to crouch behind something and wait for someone else to open it, which feels like forever before that happens. As soon as it’s open I leap out from behind the bench and run past them, startling them in the process, then sprint across the foreground to the tent beside Lysette’s, and glance around.

Ears flicking about, searching for any sound of people nearby, but all I hear is shifting inside the tents. No one sees me crouching by this one, so I shift back into an elf and pause, listening some more, before I move. Taking such a form drains a lot of energy, and saps my mana, so I’m breathless as I peel back the tent flap and peer inside. Wickam is fast asleep in his bedroll, armor set neatly to the side, but his sword is within arm’s reach, just to be safe.

“Wickam?” I hiss at him, crawling inside. He grunts in his sleep. “Wickam,” I repeat and he bolts upright, reaching for his sword. “Don’t be alarmed, it’s just me,” I whisper, and he lets go of the sword. He rubs his eyes, then reaches to light the lantern nearby. “I’m so sorry to wake you, but I didn’t know where else to go.”

“What’s wrong?” he asks, blinking up at me. Surprised still, that I should be on my hands and knees inside his tent. “Did something happen?”

“A couple of the night watch, they…they frightened me, and I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Frightened you?” he repeats, sitting up, looking even more concerned. “How? What did they do, Elias?”

“Well, nothing. I got away before they could. I don’t rightly know what they intended to do, but they cornered me by one of the cabins as I was leaving the tavern and headed to bed. One of them…one of them called me a rabbit, and I think they meant to hurt me.”

“Do you remember what they look like?” I nod at that. “Right, well I’ll bring this to the Commander’s attention on the morrow. Let’s get you back to your quarters.”

“Will you stay with me?” I ask, not wanting to be alone at the moment. “I’d rather not be all by myself in that cabin should they try something again.”

“Uhm,” Wickam rubs his chin. “I can get someone to stay with you, if you’d like.”

“There’s room for an extra cot,” I say. “It’s not like I’m asking you to sleep in my bed with me.”

Both Wickam and I blush at that imagery. “Elias,” he begins, tentatively, “I…I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“Why? I’d feel much safer if you’re there. I don’t think your Commander would mind.”

“I-I really shouldn’t, Elias. You see, I-”

“Maker, it’s about that kiss isn’t it?” I sigh. I’ve gone and made the man uncomfortable being left alone with me, haven’t I? Perhaps he thinks I’ll try to molest him or something. “I’m truly sorry about that,” I say. “I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable like that, and assure you, sir, it won’t happen again. I know when I’m not wanted, and I can take a hint. I know how to take no for an answer. If you’re not interested then you’re not interested, and I promise I won’t-”

“Elias.”

“No, let me finish, Lieutenant. If you’re not inclined toward that sort of company, I understand and I-”

“Elias.”

“Please just let me finish. I-”

This time, however, he halts me with a kiss. Cups the sides of my face with his hands and pulls me closer, crashing his lips to mine. Oh…Oh! Well, Siva was right after all. When he pulls away he’s smiling at me and says, “Anyone ever tell you you talk too much?”

“Not often enough apparently,” I say breathlessly, shocked that Wickam would kiss me.

He chuckles quietly. “I’ve been trying to tell you the feeling is mutual. That’s why it’s such a terrible idea. I like you, Elias, and being alone with you, I wouldn’t trust myself to keep my hands off you.”

My heart thumps hard in my chest when I hear those words.

“Then don’t,” I say, and he bites his lip.

Then so do I, climbing into the soldier’s lap as I plant my mouth on his for a second kiss. He’s probably right, and this is probably a terrible idea to get involved like this, I mean, he’s a Templar and I’m an apostate mage. I just transformed into a bloody cat a moment ago, for crying out loud! But right this second, I’m not really thinking with my head anymore, and grip his collar tightly as we kiss, his tongue slipping past my teeth, searching for mine, and his hands settle at my hips.

But this tent doesn’t have near enough privacy for my taste. It would be different if we were alone in the woods somewhere, but here in the middle of Haven? He pulls away again. “Your quarters then?” he murmurs against my mouth and I nod my head. I allow Wickam the time to get properly dressed before we exit the tent and head up to the village. I don’t intend to be loud enough to wake all of Haven, but at least my quarters will allow for some amount of noise.

We’re practically all over each other the moment we step inside and the door is firmly shut and locked behind us. All the hard work of getting Wickam’s armor on is immediately undone as my fingers work to undo the straps holding it in place. His kiss is as hungry as the look he gives me after I get his tunic off, pulling it up over his head. Then come the boots and pants, unlaced then shrugged off and cast aside. My own clothes are soon scattered to the floor as well.

In a frenzy of kisses and touches we find ourselves near my bed, falling onto it with happy moans and sighs, and I myself am overeager to have this man’s cock inside me, at this particular moment. Though Wickam is polite enough to ask before hand if I’d like as much, and he doesn’t need to ask twice. I nod enthusiastically and say, “There’s some oil in the nightstand.” I point to it, then watch as he rummages through the contents, searching for the bottle. I hear him hum triumphantly when he does.

“There we are,” he murmurs and I watch with rapt attention as he pops the cork and pours some onto his hand to slick his throbbing cock. He’s not that big, and I’ve have much bigger, but I would never complain. He’s the perfect size to fill me up without stretching me beyond my point of tolerance, and easily finds my prostate as he bucks. I’ve been far too long without a man that I fear it’ll be over too quickly, and have to concentrate on breathing to keep myself from spilling too soon.

But it doesn’t take long for him to come either, I’ve done a sufficient job of working him up with all my attentions, and soon enough he spills inside of me with a shaken cry. My eyes are sharper than his, even without feline sight us elves see pretty good in the dark, and I watch his face contort into the most blissful expression as he thrusts inside of me one last time before pulling out. I get on my knees push him down on the bed beneath me and straddle him, planting another kiss on those lips.

He’s still partially hard, and I work him back up with more oil from the bottle before sliding down onto him and riding him while I jerk my own neglected cock. Whatever gods exist must bless this man and his stamina. He manages to stay hard long enough for me to reach my peak, buried deep inside me as with one final stroke of my hand I’m spilling out onto his stomach. I take a moment to breathe, to enjoy it, before I slide off him and onto the narrow bed.

We’ve made a mess of things, so after a moment of rest I head to the washbasin nearby to wet a cloth and clean us up. We’re silent throughout, and I wonder what Wickam must be thinking as he pulls me into his arms and plants a kiss on my brow before we fall asleep. Hopefully good things. Hope he doesn’t regret it. Because I don’t. Wickam is a wonderful man, who’s never had anything unpleasant to say to me, and has always been kind and gentle in my presence.

At first light I peak open my eyes to see him sitting up in bed and dressing. “I’m going to speak to the Commander presently,” he says, when he sees that I’m awake. “Those men that attacked you need to be dealt with.”

“I appreciate you doing this, Wickam,” I say, sitting up to plant a kiss on his shoulder. I watch him nod. “I wish you didn’t have to.”

“Only in a perfect world would I not have to,” he says, then rises from bed to collect the rest of his clothes. He puts his armor back on. “We’ll speak later,” he says with a slight nod, then leaves, closing the door quietly behind him. This odd feeling creeps over me when he does that. Like something isn’t quite right. He seemed in too much of a hurry to leave. I chalk it up that he’s anxious to deal with this matter, then slowly get dressed and leave as well. Some time later a scout approaches me to tell me I’m requested in the training yard.

The patrolmen are all lined up at the far end of the yard, Commander Cullen scowling at the lot, arms folded across his chest, Ser Wickam standing beside him, equally austere. “Healer,” Cullen addresses me with a frown when I approach. “Ser Wickam explained what happened. These are all the men that were on nightwatch last night. If you would point out to me which of them were the three that accosted you.” My heart leaps to my throat, but I point them out, and watch them glare at me.

They’re reassigned from their current duties to that of latrine duty, to teach them a lesson. They would’ve been flogged, but I urged against them being made an example of in such a way, as they hadn’t physically hurt me, and I didn’t want any of the others retaliating for the punishment. They’re dismissed, the recruits all resume their training, and Cullen leaves for this morning’s meeting in the Chantry. When I can catch him alone, I approach Wickam to thank him again.

“It was no trouble,” he tells me with a nod, but he looks awfully disturbed by something still, and a bit nervous.

“Well, perhaps tonight, if you can slip away, perhaps I could better thank you in my quarters?” I suggest with a smile, and he clears his throat, glancing around as if someone might hear us, though there’s no one within earshot.

“Elias,” he begins, wringing his hands. “I’ve had some time to think it over and…what happened last night, it can’t happen again.” It’s like the air is knocked out of my lungs when I hear that and my chest tightens. He regrets it. “We can’t be involved. What happened last night was wonderful, and I do like you very much, but I can’t be with you again.”

“But…you kissed me. I thought…”

“I did, yes, and I never meant to lead you on like that, but I just got carried away, and…I could not get attached to you, Elias. I’m still a Templar, and you are still a mage. When this war has ended, the Breach is dealt with, and the Circles are restored, I will be expected to take you in. And mages and Templars are forbidden from becoming involved.”

I feel a cold weight settle over me when I hear that. I know he’s only telling me what the Chantry taught him, this is simply his belief in how the world should be and I shouldn’t take it personally. But it still hurts all the same. I would never have been anything more to him than a fling, just like all the men before him. Somehow I manage to keep my voice from cracking when I say, “You’re absolutely right, last night never should’ve happened,” And I walk away.

“Elias, wait I…” But I’m no longer listening. I should’ve known I would never be more than a plaything.

How could I have been so stupid?

How could I have been so naïve?


	16. Chapter 16

_**Epilogue...** _

 

Cullen idly tapped the stack of reports in his hand against the doorframe before quietly entering the dwelling and glancing around. Much had changed since the last time he'd entered the Healer's work space. He noticed the two Circle mages that came to Haven had helped Elias to efficiently organize the work space, and did away with all the clutter. Now it was as clean as a whistle, all the empty cots with fresh bedding neatly arranged. Sevan and Georgiana were out collecting herbs to take to Adan to make potions and salves, but Elias himself was there, scribbling something on a scrap piece of paper.

His penmanship was horrible, Cullen noted. The few times Elias had made a list of items he needed or made notes on a patient's progress, the words were poorly written and some of them even misspelled. The Commander could never feel self conscious about his own lack of refinement, compared to the Healer's. He wasn't even entirely sure the boy could properly read. He considered having Lady Josephine teach him how, but didn't know how Elias would feel about such a thing. Maybe he was sensitive about it, and didn't want any attention drawn to his lack of any formal education.

The Commander cleared his throat to get the Healer's attention, who growled, crumpling up the piece of paper. "Gods dammit, Wickam, just leave me–" He pauses when he saw it was Cullen. "Oh, it's just you," he grumbled sourly and turn back to the table. "What can I do for you, sir?"

Cullen sighed. He had a feeling something had happened between his Lieutenant and Elias, but had never been sure of how to address the issue. But Wickam had been acting strangely the last few weeks as well. Normally he was as chipper as a man could be, considering the Breach over their heads and everything happening in Ferelden. But lately he'd been quiet and brooding. Taking his frustration out on the new recruits, to an extent not even Cullen would dare. Already the Commander had to give him a stern warning about that.

Perhaps Elias might like what he was about to suggest. He looked like he could use the break from his regular duties. And now that there were others at Haven to assist, they could afford to send Elias on this assignment.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked first, setting the reports aside and folding his arms. He found he rather liked talking to Elias when he wasn't fuming mad and screaming at the top of his lungs. He was surprisingly sharp, and overly blunt, which Cullen quite liked. He hated when people played games with him, or talked circles around him like all the nobles did. But Elias was like him. A simple man, born and raised here in Ferelden, who had no patience for long winded clerics, and didn't rightly care what people thought of him. And at the moment, he looked like he could use a friend.

But he shook his head at the Commander's question. "No, I'd rather not. Best to just forget about it. It's my own fault anyway. I should apologize though. I shouldn't let my personal feelings effect my ability to work, and I'm afraid they have. I'm awfully sorry about that. It won't happen again.

"Well, I would hope not," Cullen told him, though he still wasn't even quite sure of what they spoke of. So he changed the subject. "Sister Leliana asked me if I would approach you about this," he said, handing Elias one of the reports, the one laying on top of the pile. He quirked a brow at it. "The details of your new assignment," he added. "She wants you to join her scouts on the expedition to the Fallow Mire."

"Fallow Mire?" he repeated, squinting his eyes to carefully read the report. "Posssiblllle hos-hostiles in aaareeaaa," he sounded out slowly. He glanced at Cullen. "Avvar warriors?"

"Yes," Cullen nodded. "They've been spotted on the area, and she fears that getting too close to them will only cause conflict if not handled carefully. But there maybe rifts in the area, only Harding can't get her team in close enough to investigate. She thought perhaps with your experience with their people, you could be of some use during the mission. As well as your skills as a healer will come in handy should they encounter any demons or undead. We have two other healers that should be able to handle things here in your absence. And..." Cullen rubbed his neck. "I thought you might enjoy a change of pace."

Elias sighed and set down the paper, rubbing his eyes as if he were tired still, though it was early, and there hadn't been much to do yet that day.

"Maybe I _should_ leave," he mumbled. "Then I won't have to see him, unless..." His eyes darted to Cullen's. "You're not sending Wickam as well, are you?"

"I hadn't planned to, no. So how familiar are you with the Avvar, exactly?" he asked, overly curious.

Elias raised a brow at the question. "Well, I was practically one of them before I left," he shrugged. "An honorary member, I guess you could say. But that was at Stone-Bear Hold in the Frostback Basin. I haven't seen or spoken to any of Thane Movran's tribe in several years, and last I heard they were still up in the mountains. I honestly can't say what they're doing in the marshes."

"But could you speak to them?"

"Uh...maybe. You see, uhm, his son and I weren't exactly on good terms when I left?"

"Why? What happened?"

Elias sighed. "It's a long story...But I'll do my best, Commander. If anything, I can help your scouts to better understand Avvar culture as to not get them killed immediately upon arrival."

Cullen nodded a little. "Thank you."

He picked up the remaining reports and turned to leave the hut, but stopped in the doorway to turn back.

"In regards to Ser Wickam," he began, seeing the Healer bristle a little. He smirked. "Shall I put him on latrine duty?"

Elias fought hard to keep from smiling but utterly failed.

"No...but thank you, Commander."

"A good day to you then."

"You as well."

When Cullen left Elias was still shaking his head at the human, smiling to himself.

 _Latrine duty_ , he thought. _Now wouldn't that be interesting._

Pretty soon he was chuckling at the idea, right up until he thought back to that report again, sitting in front of him, mentioning the Avvar.

His heart pounded heavily in his chest again at the mere thought.

When he said he had a history with the Hand of Korth, he was underselling it.

It was more than just complicated.

It was the _reason_ he'd left Ferelden and headed west.

But now he was going back.

 _Gods damn it all,_ he thought. _Why does Cullen have to be so handsome? Makes it bloody difficult to tell the man no._

But Gods knew he wished he had...

 

_**-End of Part One-** _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Elias is getting his very own side story detailing his trip to the Fallow Mire! But stick around for a direct sequel to Cheers! once Kosho and I have sorted that one out :D
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!
> 
> –SB


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